


Unintended

by themarkerfairy



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-08-27 20:42:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8416087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themarkerfairy/pseuds/themarkerfairy
Summary: The best relationships aren't those you go looking for, but those you fall into accidentally.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> son listen..........there's no plot here. it's just fluff and sex. because girls are good, and are much better socialized to talk about their feelings

Ja’far is certainly attractive, if in a way that does not fit the stereotype of an attractive woman.  Sinbad is forced to recognize this every time she manages to drag her out drinking, and Ja’far ends up with her choice of bed partners.

But Ja’far has never inspired more of a reaction in Sinbad than any other attractive human being.  Until recently, that is.  Sinbad is finally into her mid-twenties, and much to her chagrin, she can feel her body beginning to settle.  Oh, it’s no less strong and vigorous for it, but the constant fluxes of youth are gone.  She is starting to find things like solitude, understanding, certainty, genuine affection, and -- god forbid -- children, more and more appealing.  

And Sinbad is coming to the horrifying conclusion that the person who provides her most of these things is not any of the numerous men she can choose on any given night, but Ja’far.  

Still small, still temperamental, and not so very different from the child she grew up with.  They’ve worked and lived alongside each other for over a decade, and Ja’far is more of a comfort just as she is than any of her many sexual partners.  To be quite honest, Sinbad doesn’t even find herself wanting sex as much anymore.  She still seeks it out, almost always enjoys it, but she craves a connection that random bed-partners simply do not give, no matter how skilled or aesthetically pleasing.    

In the midst of recent passions, Sinbad has found herself unwillingly thinking of Ja’far more often than not.  And it’s disconcerting, to have her legs wrapped around the muscular back of her latest conquest, moving inside her, and thinking of an admittedly scrawny woman instead.  

Sinbad has always been under the assumption that she preferred men, and men only.  The fact that she can get off on simply the _idea_ of Ja’far, the noises she would make, the smiles she would give, bony hips and skinny ankles, the sheer affection that would be combined with her pleasure, is making her reconsider this assumption.

And Sinbad doesn’t like it.  Sure, she’s the ruler of this nation, she can do as she pleases; and it’s not unprecedented, at least in an unofficial capacity.  But a relationship with another woman may not be willingly accepted by the public, not to mention Ja’far, who has given no inclination of her further interest in Sinbad.  

She groans and rolls over in her bed.  Normally a few glasses of wine will send her right off to sleep after a long day, but not tonight.  No, tonight her brain has decided it is time to try to solve all of her problems at once.  Except it isn’t solving them, it’s just needling at them pointlessly and denying her much-needed sleep.  

Sinbad is halfway through failing to solve the economic crisis in Balbadd when she hears her doorknob turning without a knock.  Old fight or flight instincts try to kick in, but Sinbad reminds herself that no one without permission can get through the wards on her room, and those with permission are very few.  She cracks open her eyes when she hears the door scrape across carpet, and catches sight of narrow, pale legs catching moonlight, a baggy nightshirt brushing a few inches above the knee.  

“Oh.  Sorry, Sin.  I would have knocked, but I thought you would be asleep.”  Ja’far is carrying her set of clothes for the next day, and puts them neatly down on the bench by her dressing table, folded precisely.  

“We have servants for that, Ja’far.  You should be sleeping, not doing chores.”  

“You shouldn’t be awake either, you know I’m going to come wake you up early tomorrow,” Ja’far distractedly straightens a few makeup pencils and brushes sitting in front of the mirror.  “And I like doing them, consider it a ritual before I go to bed, just how I like to wake you up.”  

“You only insist on being the one to wake me up because ‘Royalty shouldn’t be seen in that state,’” Sinbad makes irritated air quotes.  Ja’far just laughs a bit and starts walking to the door.  

“Ja’far?”  Sinbad stops her.  “I was thinking and --”

“Don’t do that,” Ja’far interrupts with a grin.  “You usually end up hurting yourself.”  

Sinbad huffs and blows her bangs out of her face, pinching her lips in an ugly fashion to do so.  “Well I _was_ thinking and now I can’t _stop_ thinking.  Just, could you get me the bottle from the table over there before you go?”  

Ja’far’s mouth twitches, and much to Sinbad’s annoyance, does not go over to her liquor cabinet, and instead walks over to Sinbad’s bed, where she stops, hands on her slim hips.  “Alcohol can solve some problems, but shouldn’t solve all of them, Sin.”  

Sinbad folds her arms over her chest.  “It’s not like I’m causing any trouble, Ja’far.  I just want to sleep.”  

Ja’far softens noticeably, and looks askance at Sinbad, “Can I sit?”  

Sinbad nods a bit grumpily, and Ja’far perches on the edge of the bed, folding one leg underneath her and leaving the other dangling off.  “I,” she reaches for Sinbad’s hair strewn out over the pillow nearest her, “usually go crawl into bed next to Pipirika, like when we were kids.”  

“Really?”  Sinbad would have thought she would have noticed something like that.  

“It’s nice to have safe company sometimes, when you can’t stop thinking.”  

She considers this for a moment as Ja’far picks at her split ends.  “I’m not safe company?”  

Ja’far just giggles.  “No one is safe sleeping next to you, you sprawling mess.  And your bed is very often otherwise occupied.”  

Sinbad smiles a bit guiltily.  “Ah, fair enough.”  Her previous thoughts haven’t quite left her, so Sinbad’s heart thumps a bit erratically as she asks, “would you stay here tonight, Ja’far?  I’ll try not to kick off the covers.  Or lose my shirt.”  

“Anything for my king,” Ja’far teases, getting up to wedge herself under the blankets.  “Nothing I haven’t suffered through before.”  

“Oi,” Sinbad kicks at her leg as she crawls in, and Ja’far just kicks her back.  She tucks her knees up and pushes the blankets right up to her chin, just as she did as a child.  Large, grey eyes close, and her hand reaches up to curl lightly against Sinbad’s back, feet nudging towards her legs to give a few points of comforting contact.  

“Cold,” Sinbad grumbles as icy, bare feet touch her leg.  

“Go to sleep, Sin.”  

* * *

 

The few weeks since have left Ja’far surprised, and frankly a bit suspicious.  Sinbad has been particularly well-behaved lately, going out less, working a bit more, being less loud and slightly more thoughtful.  Good behavior usually means she has either done something bad that Ja’far has not yet found out, or she’s about to do something bad and is taking pre-emptive action.  

And so when she strolls into Sinbad’s office at six in the evening on a Friday night to leave a new stack of papers, Ja’far is even more surprised and suspicious to find Sinbad still there.  Not only is she physically present, but she actually appears to be focusing on what is in front of her, forehead creased into a frown and lips moving slightly as she mumbles what she is reading.  

“Alright, Sin.  Out with it; what have you done?”  

Sinbad looks up just fast enough to indicate that she was surprised by Ja’far’s entrance.  “What?”  

“It’s been nearly two weeks, you know.  You thought I wouldn’t notice?”  

“Two weeks since what, Ja’far?  Did something happen?”  Much to Ja’far’s puzzlement, she appears genuinely concerned and confused.   

Ja’far double checks to make sure no one else is present, and replies upon finding they are truly alone.  “Since you went out, came back roaring drunk, and fucked someone loudly enough that the whole palace heard.”  

Sinbad doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.  “You keep track of that?”

“Of course I do, as do several others.  You’re a queen and an important figure.  We make sure you are safe at all hours.”  

She looks a bit perturbed.  “That’s creepy.”  

“But necessary,” Ja’far replies.  

“Do you, like… stand outside the door and listen to make sure I’m not dying?”  

“Of course not.  Not like anyone would be able to tell with the noises you make.”  

“So you _do_ stand outside and listen.”  

“No, Sin.  My room is very close to yours; and, like I said, you are quite vocal.  I don’t listen voluntarily.”  

Sinbad looks strangely disappointed, but Ja’far decides not to comment on it.  

“To return to the original point, what have you done that you feel the need to act so… professionally?”  

“I haven’t done anything!”  Sinbad protests.

“You certainly have.  You always do this when I’m about to catch you at something troublesome, being especially efficient to get in my good graces.  Honestly, I’d rather just know what it is so I can do damage control,” Ja’far sighs.  

“I just haven’t felt like causing ‘damage’ recently.”  Sinbad looks a bit put out.  They’ve had innumerable conversations before about her description of fun before, but she hasn't done anything objectionable recently, that she's aware of.  “Is that really so hard to believe?”

Ja’far stares at her, face deadpan.  “Yes.”  

“Why?  You never do anything fun, and no one finds that suspicious.  Maybe your boring is just rubbing off on me after all these years.”  

“My boring,” Ja’far comments, “is what runs this country.”  

“Oh, you know what I mean.”  Sinbad flaps her hand dismissively.  “And you’re the one always nagging me to _stop_ drinking and sleeping around, so why are you upset now that I actually have?”

“Because there wasn’t any reason for you to stop, thus you must have done something you aren’t telling me about.”  Ja’far plops down onto the floor to open a large file cabinet, and begins pulling folders in and out.  “You know me,” she says, “I always want to have all the information.”  

The silence before Sinbad replies goes a beat too long, and Ja’far glances up from her task.  Sinbad seems… uncomfortable.  Her normally proud shoulders are a bit hunched, fingers frozen on the page she was reading as if she has momentarily forgotten her hands exist.  

As soon as Ja’far catches her eyes, the discomfort vanishes quickly beneath an expertly feigned smile.  

“I think I’m just getting old, you know?”  She bites her lip sheepishly.  Ja’far isn’t quite ready to accept that excuse, and raises her eyebrows questioningly.  “Like, I never used to get hangovers, and now I get absolutely crippling ones.  Takes some of the fun out of the whole thing.”  

Ja’far supposes she can run with that reasoning for now.  She knows there must be more to it.  After years of watching Sinbad’s acting develop, she recognizes when it’s being performed, even when most others would not.  Sinbad is smiling like she desperately wants to hide something, and Ja’far lets her, though she doesn’t like it.  

“Well, if you do remember you did anything, please let me know before it becomes a public scandal.”  

“I really, really didn’t do anything!”  There is a distinct air of pouting in Sinbad’s tone.  “I’m just worried about Balbadd, is all.  Something fishy is going on there, aside from poor leadership, and I’ve been trying to figure it out.”  

This, Ja’far is more willing to believe.  Though it has become less apparent with fewer instances of direct conflict, now that they are safely harbored in Sindria, Sinbad has always been capable of getting very serious when the situation called for it.  

“I don’t imagine Rashid’s sons changed much.  They can’t be doing a great job with their father gone,” Ja’far considers.  “Maybe you’re just reading too much into it because you feel you owe a personal debt?”  

“That’s what I thought at first, but I was worried enough that I looked into it, anyway,” Sinbad explains.  “And that’s the problem.  Conditions in Balbadd are turning abhorrent, but it’s not happening accidentally.  It’s being done purposefully, and with great cunning; certainly more than Ahbmad possesses.”  Sinbad is chewing anxiously on her lip now, eyes back on the document below her.  “Someone is pulling strings here, I just can’t for the life of me figure out who it is.”  

Ja’far rounds the desk to look over her shoulder.  “Let me look at it.”  

Sinbad pushes her chair back to give Ja’far a better view, going to open a desk drawer as she does.  “I have a lot more.”  She opens the drawer to reveal a rather large pile of papers, haphazardly stacked and piled.  “Bank statements, mostly.  The state is maintaining wealth, but through truly obtuse methods that hurts its citizens unnecessarily.  I just don’t get it.  Ahbmad was never particularly kind, but I didn’t think he was this cruel, let alone smart enough to enact it.”  

Ja’far tries to keep her mouth from dropping in surprise.  She’s never seen Sinbad do this much paperwork willingly in her life, so she must truly be worried for more than just Balbadd’s safety.  Ja’far doesn’t quite understand how one small nation across oceans could have such sway in Sinbad’s worldview, but Sinbad has always somehow known where to be and when.  So if she is so concerned about this, it is probably best to oblige her.  

“I’ll go get us some food, and we’ll try to work this out,” Ja’far says, and makes towards the exit.  “Do you want any coffee?”  She adds as an afterthought.  This looks like it might be a long night.

Sinbad sticks out her tongue.  “Ew, no.  You know I hate the stuff.”  And it’s true that Ja’far only ever sees her resort to the drink when she is desperate for energy.  

“Suit yourself,” Ja’far chuckles, and starts walking towards the kitchens.  

* * *

 

Sinbad thinks maybe she should have taken Ja’far up on the coffee.  It must be nearing midnight, and no matter how many frustrated sighs they’ve given and how many sticky fingerprints they’ve left over the documents, she and Ja’far are no closer to an answer.  

“It’s got to be Al Thamen,” Ja’far declares, and Sinbad looks at her in disbelief.

“However were you able to prove that?”  Because Ja’far rarely make statements without being able to back them up.  

“I can’t.”  Ja’far tugs at her hair in agitation.  The first things to go in Ja’far’s wardrobe are always her shoes and her keffiyeh, both of which she knows are necessary but finds uncomfortable.  Sinbad’s attention momentarily strays (she blames it on her exhaustion) to Ja’far’s frizzy puffs of hair, always kept cut close to her chin.  They’re flattened in some spots, sticking up strangely in others, from being stuck under a scarf all day.  Sinbad wants to touch them, but her dazed train of thought is interrupted by Ja’far’s continued explanation.  

“It’s just that no one else intentionally causes this much suffering for no real gain.  Nor does any other faction have the authority or experience to do it like this.”  Ja’far tucks her legs under her and crosses her arms, nothing more than a pile of oversized robes in this position.  “We always knew once they took over Kou they would pick another target.  They certainly have the might and authority now.  Why not start with the easy pickings?”  

Sinbad folds her hands in front of her face and considers this.  Truth be told, she had mostly been focused on internal factions within Balbadd.  With the recent insurrection and death of Rashid, she had assumed someone was trying to take power from his weaker sons.  Ja’far’s proposition brings up a host of new and even more worrisome possibilities.  

“Ja’far, do we have records of finances for other countries?  Smaller ones, about Balbadd’s size.  Especially those in proximity to Kou.”  

White eyebrows furrow in confusion for a brief moment, before her face pales dramatically, realizing the implications of Sinbad’s request.  “Yes, yes we do.”  She stands quickly to scurry off to her own office.  

She returns with a large stack of scrolls and files piled in her arms, kneels to spread them out across the floor, and begins sorting like with like.  

Sinbad watches with dawning horror.  It’s the same thing over and over again, in dozens of countries and small provinces.  Nearly identical reports to those she has been poring over in Balbadd are laid out before her eyes, edges neatly lined up by Ja’far’s small hands.  

“They’re doing it everywhere…” she nearly whispers.  

“We didn’t notice because they didn’t go after us or any of our allies,” Ja’far says as she continues picking through financial records.  “They didn’t even go after allies of our allies.  They’re trying to keep it quiet.”  

“I have to do something.”  Sinbad starts pacing.  “I can’t let them do this!  Millions of people are going to suffer just so they can get their damned dark power, and Kou is going to get so big we won’t be able to hold them off!”  She stops moving.  “Ja’far, when is Balbadd due for its next exchange with them?  I’ll go and cut it off at the source.”  

“You will not, Sin.  I won’t allow it.”  

“You presume to tell me what to do when my people are in danger?”  Only force of will keeps her from yelling.  

“I presume to tell you what to do _because_ your people are in danger!  This isn’t a problem you can stop with fire and lightning, and certainly not alone.”  

“It’s been a long time since you’ve seen me fight, Ja’far.  Even you don’t know what I’m capable of anymore,” Sinbad hisses.  

“You could have enough power to end the world, and it still wouldn’t solve this problem,” Ja’far retaliates.  She is eerily calm, and it only makes Sinbad angrier.  She can feel a darkness welling up in her and longs for Ja’far’s temper so she has someone to release it upon.  “You think killing their agent will do anything?  They’ll replace him.  You think charging into Kou in a rage will solve anything?  You think you can take that much corruption, that much power, Judar and Gyokuen and multiple dungeon conquerors alone?”  

“I could.  With all our allies, you know I could.  That’s why they haven’t tried to sabotage us, as well; they know we’re a threat.”  

“And leave an empire destitute?  Millions of people without any infrastructure?  You can’t govern a country that size, that different from our own.   _Think,_ Sin.”  

Sinbad strides quickly towards Ja’far, who is somehow still sitting quietly on the floor, stepping on neat stacks of paper as she does.  She is in the process of lifting her hand when she realizes exactly what she is doing.  Was Sinbad… just about to _hit_ _Ja’far?_  She sits down hard, sending papers flying, and puts her face in her hands.  

“I’m sorry.  I don’t know what just came over me.”  

Ja’far dramatically exhales a breath Sinbad hadn’t noticed she was holding.  “God, you’re frightening like that, you know.  I haven’t seen you that angry since… well.”  Ja’far flicks idly at a black rukh that is quickly dissipating in the air.  Only then does Sinbad realize the power she had been leaking, if it’s that visible.  

“Ugh, I’m sorry, Ja’far.  Thank you for keeping your calm.”  Sinbad slumps over.  “It just hit too close to home; to what they did to us, and what they nearly did to us.”  

Ja’far reaches out tentatively to pat her knee.  She’s always been sparing and awkward with touch, unless she was angry -- even when she was little -- and it hasn’t changed.  Only with those closest to her is she comfortable enough to try.

“You can’t take on the world’s suffering all by yourself, Sin.  You act like you can, but you can’t.  You’re still human, and they nearly got you last time.”  

“I had to.  I promised my people the world and they only got slaughtered.  I’d die before I let Al Thamen get what was left of their souls.”  She grabs Ja’far’s hand and squeezes it hard enough that she feels bones grinding.  “I’m more powerful for surviving it, in the end.”  

“At what cost?”  Ja’far mutters quietly.  

Sinbad doesn’t answer, because she doesn’t know.  

* * *

 

Ja’far wakes up to rays of sunlight hitting her face, which is unusual, as she rarely sleeps past sunrise and the windows of her room do not face the morning sun.  Nor is her hair long enough to be stuck to her like this.  Which is when she remembers her previous, moderately terrifying, night, which had culminated in her crawling into Sinbad’s bed with her.  Ja’far herself hadn’t wanted the company, but leaving Sinbad alone like that would not have had positive results.  

Which would explain why she is trapped in a pile of tangled hair.  

It is at this moment that Sinbad makes a weird noise combined with a sigh and rolls over onto Ja’far, grabbing onto her in her sleep and just further entrapping Ja’far in her hair.  

Ja’far stiffens uncomfortably, as she does with most unexpected physical contact, and breathes a long-suffering sigh, eyes rolling to the ceiling.  

“Sin, wake up.  It’s mid-morning and I’m stuck in your hair and have to pee.”  

Sinbad just mumbles sleepily and hugs Ja’far tighter.  

Ja’far wrenches a hand free to poke at her face.  “Sin, up.  You’ve slept long enough.”  

Thick eyebrows pinch as her face twitches.  “Noooo.”  

“I’ll just free myself, then.  Might kind of hurt your hair, though.”  Ja’far starts working to wiggle free of her grasp, rolling over purple hair as she does so.  

“Ow.”  Sinbad is finally inspired to full wakefulness.  “Ja’far?  Ow!  Hold on, just let me--”

“How did this even happen?”  Ja’far questions as Sinbad finally releases her and she moves to remove purple hair that has somehow wrapped not once, but twice around her pale neck.  “Never letting you go to bed without your hair braided again.  The nakedness is enough of a trial on its own.”  

Sinbad looks down.  “Ah, sorry.”  She goes to cover herself in the blankets.  

“Nothing I haven’t seen before, though I could do without the attempted strangulation,” Ja’far mutters as she climbs out of the bed.  “....Are you _blushing_ , Sin?”  

“No!”  Is the vehement protest.  “I just nearly assaulted you last night, and then almost did it again in my sleep!”  

Ja’far is too tired and bleary to think much of it, so she just waves her off as she goes to tug her heavy official robes over her shirt and pants.

In the middle of getting dressed, Ja’far is forced to turn and look at Sinbad when she speaks.  

“What do I do?”  She asks, and her voice sounds well and truly lost.  “Ja’far, what should I do?”  

A shirt and skirt are thrown unceremoniously at her in reply.  “Right now, we are going to go bathe and eat breakfast, part of which you would ideally be clothed for.”  

Sinbad shakes her head, as if trying to rid herself of momentary hopelessness, and scrambles out of bed to dress herself.  Ja’far ties her sash about her waist and puts her keffiyeh snugly onto her head, somehow looking no worse for wear than she does after a usual long night at work.  

“Food first,” Ja’far declares as she opens the door for Sinbad.  “It’s a weekend, so we have nowhere urgent to be and the kitchens won’t be overly surprised at the late start.  Do your best to act like nothing is amiss; no use causing a panic.”  

“Thanks,” she says quietly.  

“I’ll always be here to help pick you up, Sin,” Ja’far replies.  “As long as I know you’ll keep standing on your own afterwards.”  

* * *

 

Breakfast had been fine.  Sinbad was able to put aside her worries for just a moment and simply focus on food, shoving what must have been at least three papayas into her face, along with some raw fish on toast.  She hadn’t eaten since early last night, and hadn’t realized how starving she was.  

Bathing is less fine, despite the fact that she normally relishes long baths.  Large, warm baths had been something she had insisted upon in her palace, as well as in public areas in her kingdom.  She’d had enough freezing bucket baths in her youth and wished that fate upon no one.  Besides that, it was nice to be able to just soak in warm water, maybe drink, maybe sit with her friends, and gossip and relax after a long day.  

Now, though, it’s just awkward.  Sinbad is sitting in the corner of the large shared bath, back against rough-hewn stone.  She often just piles her hair upon her head and decides it isn’t worth washing, but she’s done that for the last week, with how busy she’s been, and it really is time to scrub it properly, so her hair drifts in a dark morass around her.

Ja’far is floating on her back a few yards away, tips of small breasts peeking out of the water along with her face, knees, and toes.  She, too, loves her cleanliness, not that anyone would have been able to guess it from what a dirty scruff of a child she had once been.  She washes her hair too often, which is probably part of why it is so uncontrollably fluffy.  Ja’far looks unconcerned, drifting peacefully with her eyes closed, hands making small figure-eights in the water.  Sinbad, meanwhile, feels like she is having an existential crisis in the corner.  The world is ending, Ja’far is very pretty, and there is nothing she can do about either of those things.

“Stop thinking,” she hears from Ja’far’s direction through the steam.  

“Easy for you to say,” Sinbad grumbles.  There is a splash as Ja’far folds her body and sinks under the water, before resurfacing.  She spits water from the surface of her lips and blinks it from her eyes before kicking over to Sinbad.  

“Compartmentalize,” she suggests.  “Right now you are taking a bath, and all you are doing is taking a bath.”  

Sinbad watches water drip from the tip of Ja’far’s nose.  “Right now I’m taking a bath, and meanwhile Al Thamen is plotting world domination.”  

Ja’far sighs in exasperation and splashes water at her face, prompting disgruntled spluttering.  “You are taking a bath so that later you are clean, warm, and relaxed so that you can properly focus on solving problems in the most efficient manner possible.”  

“I can’t just… not think!”  Sinbad protests.

“It takes practice, but I wouldn’t have survived without it.  Don’t ‘not think,’ just think about your immediate task and nothing else.”  

Sinbad looks like she is concentrating so hard, her head might explode.  Ja’far snorts and crawls out of the pool to sit on the stone floor behind her.  “Here, give me your shampoo.  I’ll wash your hair, you tell me about… whatever.  Your favorite boys, the most recent place you ate, whatever Yamu blew up last, something fun.”  

What Sinbad comes up with is none of these things.  “Do you think it’s possible for Drakon and Saher to have a child?”  

Ja’far has to stop pouring shampoo into her hand just to bend over laughing.  “What?”  She finally manages to get out between breaths.  

“Well, I don’t know!”  She says indignantly.  “You’ve never wondered?  I mean, Drakon has an unusual… everything, I guess, but especially uh, I guess it’s a dick?  There’s two.”  Sinbad sounds so genuinely perplexed that Ja’far has to work hard not to keep laughing hysterically.  

“Ask Saher sometime; she’s a wealth of information you may or may not want.”  Ja’far makes a strange face, but Sinbad is facing away and cannot see it.  “As for kids… I really don’t know, actually.”  

Sinbad very much likes Ja’far touching her hair.  It is one of the few modes of contact Ja’far doesn’t hesitate at, presumably because it is always under the pretense of maintenance.  She leans her head back as Ja’far scrubs at her scalp and tries very hard not to blush when this just leaves her head resting on Ja’far’s folded calf, the rest of her body on full display.  She thinks about the sensation of scaly dicks and is suddenly less turned on.  “To each their own.”  Sinbad closes her eyes and sighs.  “I just miss kids, you know?  Not that I want any of my own, but there were so many for so long, and now that Hinahoho’s are starting to be grown, I kind of miss the chaos.  Drakon seemed the most likely candidate for babies at this point.”  

“We’ve raised a lot of children, between us.”  Ja’far pats at Sinbad’s soapy head, and accidentally sends bubbles flying.  “I know what you mean, though.  As troublesome as everyone was growing up, I do miss it.  Children are simple and gratifying sometimes, if not both horrifying and hilarious.”  

Sinbad starts giggling.  “Oh, god.  Do you remember when we properly introduced Yamu and Sharr?  Or Sharr and Masrur, for that matter.”  

Ja’far has to pause in her task to drop her chin to her chest.  “I never want to experience such an ordeal again.  They made Hinahoho’s giant poop-machines seem like child’s play.”

Sinbad pulls her head off of Ja’far’s leg when she moves, and shifts it to lie back in the water.  Ja’far slips quietly back into the bath and begins the arduous process of rinsing Sinbad’s long hair.  

“We’ve raised some good people, all of us, don’t you think?”  

Ja’far just chuckles.  “Lazy, drunk, womanizing, temperamental, combative, the lot of them.  But yes, good people.”  

“Oh, let’s have another,” Sinbad teases.  Ja’far just pushes on her forehead and dunks it underwater in response.  She comes up spitting water, but smiling.  

“Maybe a weird dragon-baby next, then.  We’ve had stranger,” Ja’far suggests.  She’s finished rinsing Sinbad’s hair now, and gestures for her to lift her head.  “Or yours, by some terrible mishap.  Big eyebrows, hair that won’t lie down; I bet it’d be cute.”  

“Don’t even say that, Ja’far.  I’d be a terrible pregnant woman.  No drinking, weird foods, less exercise; you’d kill me by the end of it, if I didn’t kill myself.”  Ja’far reaches to start shampooing her own hair, and Sinbad stops her.  “Let me.”  She’s glad to be distracted enough by the conversation to ignore, momentarily, what touching Ja’far does to her.  

“I’m hardly an advocate,” Ja’far laughs.  “I think I’ve had several poignant nightmares about you getting pregnant.  Kid would still be cute, though.”  

Sinbad makes a face as she massages shampoo into Ja’far’s wet hair.  “No, thanks.  Not for me, even if it’d be cute.  Oooh, think about yours, though.  When you first take it out in the sun and it gets freckles.  Probably have your nightmarish temper.”  

Unexpectedly, Ja’far smiles a bit sadly, and Sinbad can feel it as her thumbs rub across her skull.  “I’ve thought about it, but you know the poisons rendered me infertile.  You gripe at me about how unfair it is that I’ve never had to suffer through a period every time you’re on yours.”  

“That’s because it really is unfair!”  Sinbad pauses, and grows a bit sad as she realizes that menstruation might mean more to Ja’far than just having to suffer every month.  “Really?  You’d want a baby?”  

“I’m not sure, but I’ll never know now.  I mean, I like kids, so I might have in another life.”  

“I’m sorry, Ja’far,” Sinbad responds after a beat, not knowing what else to say.  

“Nothing to be sorry for.  It isn’t your fault.  I don’t know that I would have, anyway.  Plus, I’ve already got much more of a family than I ever thought I’d have, and _that_ part is entirely your fault.”  

Sinbad smooths her hands one last time over frothy white hair, and then tips Ja’far’s head back to rinse it quickly in the bath.  Pale, frizzy strands turn almost translucent in the water, and Sinbad runs her hands through it thoughtfully.  

“A strange country we’ve made, isn’t it?”  

Ja’far pulls her head out of the water and wades to the edge of the bath.  “A strange country of strange people,” she agrees.  “But good, for all its flaws.”  

Sinbad stands as Ja’far hauls herself over the edge of the pool, off to the faucets and pumice stones to go scrub her skin clean.  Her long hair molds slickly over her back and pools about her waist in the water, drifting to and fro with the ripples of the bath.  For just a moment, Sinbad loses herself, eying the sinuous curve of Ja’far’s spine as she moves, and she unconsciously licks her lips, breath catching in her chest, before shaking herself out of this particular reverie and also going to exit the bath.  

Another problem for another time.  For now, she has a world to save.   

* * *

 

Unbeknownst to Sinbad, Ja’far had seen this reaction in a sliver of mirror as she walked towards the faucets and bathing stations.  She had seen want on Sinbad’s face a thousand times, and that was certainly what this was.  Ordinarily, she’d agonize over the issue at length, but amidst calling all of their allies to an emergency conference to discuss their discoveries on Al Thamen and Kou, she frankly hasn’t had the time.  Certainly, Al Thamen had noticed their movements, but there was no avoiding that.  It had to be done.  And Sinbad had a plan, as she nearly always did.  

It was not a particularly nice or wholesome plan, but Ja’far’s life has never been nice or wholesome, and Sinbad’s had stopped being so a decade ago, enslaved in a dungeon, brainwashed for months.  

It takes a couple of weeks of meeting with fellow Alliance leaders or representatives to hammer out a detailed, written order of events.  Ultimately, they already have the might to take on the Kou Empire, magi and all, and _probably_ come out on top.  But it would not be done without massive casualties, and still, the risk of losing is too high, based on too many unknowns and assumptions.  It might be better to strike now, while Kouen’s siblings are still growing, while Judar is still little more than a child.  But there was a strange shift in power after Hakutoku’s death, and it wasn’t his younger brother taking the throne.  

Koutoku is not half so strong and willful as his brother, and Kouen can only do so much from his subordinate position.  Yet Kou is growing faster than ever under the control of someone in the royal family.  It must be Gyokuen, but the few in the conference who have met her have a hard time believing it.  She is far too kind, submissive, and motherly to be anything but a support figure.  Until they can determine more accurately the intricacies of involvement between the Rens and Al Thamen, striking hard holds too much danger.  

Intelligence does say, however, that there is a growing fracture within the Ren family.  The fire that killed Hakutoku and his two eldest sons was, supposedly, not an accident, though there is no way of confirming it.  Regardless of the truth of the matter, there is a tension between the two sides of the family left standing.  There is a general sentiment that Koutoku won’t last long, and it’s probably correct.  How long he lasts will determine who makes a grab for the throne: Kouen, or young Hakuryuu, who would seem an unlikely contender if not for his mother still with the status of Empress.  

Regardless, there will be internal conflict at some point in the next decade; it is all but impossible that there won’t be with how rapidly the empire is expanding, and that is what they will aim for.  Until then, they will simply build up their armies and their supply routes.  If no one can cut off the Alliance from their resources, then their forces will be able to win even the hardest war of attrition.  Intelligence is key; they will be sending more spies into Kou and its territories, and Sinbad already has an agent picked out for Zepar.  

But mostly, in the end, all they can do is wait.   

* * *

 

Once all the foreign emissaries leave, there is nothing unusual to do as they wait for certain aspects to come to fruition.  Now, Ja’far can mull over Sinbad’s subtle glances in full, and for weeks on end, she watches Sinbad watching her.  

Everything comes to a boil after a meeting with Sinbad’s newest suitor.  If she were a typical queen, she’d be well-suited for marriage to him.  He has significant holdings, control of many ports, and a long lineage of success and politics.  

Sinbad, however, is not a typical queen.  

“Why won’t they leave me alone, Ja’far?” She bemoans after carefully postponing her decision on his offer.  “For a while my reputation could turn them away.  No one wants a non-virginal drunkard, after all.  But they don’t even care anymore, these ones!  They just want my money and my womb and my compliance -- none of which I am willing to give.  They have no concern for my people!  None!”  She sprawls dramatically on her throne.  “As if I’d let any man sit me placidly beside him in the courtroom.  And every time I refuse them, I make enemies I’d rather not make.  There’s no winning here!”  

Ja’far sympathizes with her, in a way many men probably would not.  It is a man’s world, no matter your wit, your intelligence, or your strength, and Sinbad is most assuredly not a man.  She herself would no more like to be treated as a pretty prop and a breeding mare than Sinbad would, and she doesn’t have half the political weight on her shoulders.

“You could always just marry someone insignificant for show,” Ja’far suggests.  “Men won’t respect you, but they do respect the claims of other men.”  

“I don’t want to just marry ‘someone!’”  Sinbad protests.  “What would I even do with the fellow?  Put him in a corner and feed him three times a day?”  

Ja’far can’t help but laugh, despite knowing that this is seriously bothering Sinbad.  The image is just too funny.  “Pick a pretty one, then.  Maybe you could, I don’t know, make a concubine of him.  Men certainly do it all the time.”  

Sinbad thinks for a moment, then looks disgusted at the thought.  “I’m not about to turn into Kou and its hundreds of indentured concubines for the sake of my own comfort.”  

“I know, Sin.  I was only joking because I don’t really see an easy solution.  At least that was the last appointment of the day.”  

“Was it?”  Sinbad’s voice perks up.  She immediately reaches to her hair and starts pulling out pins, tugging out the braid wrapped around the crown of her head.  When it’s finally all lying in a strangely crimped pile around her, she sighs and slumps back down, letting her back slide down the throne.  “I know the maids mean the best, but why is it always so tight?  And why isn’t my ponytail good enough for official capacities?”  

“Maybe because half the time you just end up sitting on it.”

“Ok, Ja’far, that was _one time_ I tripped over it, and you’ve never let me live it down.  I bet if I were a man they’d let me do whatever I pleased with my hair.”  

“Probably,” Ja’far sighs.  “But you aren’t.  Why don’t you just cut it a bit?”  

“No!” Sinbad grabs her hair-pile protectively, then grows a bit somber.  “I don’t remember much of my father, but he had hair just like mine.  And my mother never cut hers.  I mean, it’s not like it would kill me, I’ve had it sliced in battle before, but... I don’t know.  I just like it like this.”  

Ja’far raises her eyebrows in surprise, rifling through a desk where Sinbad can’t see her.  She rarely speaks of her parents voluntarily, even when drunk, so Ja’far tries to keep the conversation light.  “What about your monstrous eyebrows?  Are those from your dad too?”  

“Hey!”  Sinbad protests with a laugh.  “The eyebrows and I have had a rocky relationship, but I kind of like them now.  And no, actually; they’re my mother’s.”  She flicks at a large golden hoop in her ear.  “She was the one who pierced my ears, too.”  

“With the intention of you wearing hoops half the size of your head?”

“She had even bigger ones.  Giant wooden and brass things that my dad would carve for her.”

“That’s… really sweet,” Ja’far comments.  She finally finds what she is looking for and pulls three small scrolls and a brush out of the drawers of her desk, walking back over to Sinbad on her throne.  “I hope your parents can somehow see how far you’ve come.  They’d be proud.”

“I like to think so, as well.”  

Ja’far tosses the three scrolls to Sinbad, and she catches them easily.  “Read those and sign them.”  On a whim, she reaches deep into her pocket and pulls out a flask, throwing that to Sinbad as well.  

“Alright.  Oh, are you rewarding me for talking about my _feeeeelings,_ Ja’far?”  She teases.  

“Maybe,” Ja’far says.  “It’s been a hard day, regardless.”  She plops herself down on the arm of the throne and kicks her shoes off, telling Sinbad to scoot so that she can swing her legs over to rest her feet on the seat of the throne.  She reaches for the ends of Sinbad’s hair with brush in hand.  “You have to at least let me cut the split ends off, sometime.  Just an inch.”  

“Fine,” Sinbad relents, too pleased by the feeling of Ja’far running her fingers through her hair to argue over it.  She finally gets to the end of her last document, a few swigs of hard liquor burning in her belly, and Ja’far has nearly finished with her hair, brush scraping over her scalp.  “Why on earth does Darius sound so constipated when he writes?  It takes him five times as long to say something as it should.”  

“Honestly, I think it’s just his personality,” Ja’far says.  

“True, I suppose.”  Sinbad pens out a quick reply and signs it off, letting it dry before rolling it up and tossing it with the others.  

Ja’far tips Sinbad’s head back against her knees and starts massaging at her scalp.  She rubs her thumbs over her forehead, trying to remove frown lines that have developed over the course of a stressful day.  Sinbad lets out what is nearly an obscene moan as small hands try to soothe her building headache, and then immediately regrets her lack of restraint, flushing against her will and looking up at Ja’far to see if she needs to apologize.

Ja’far is also a bit flushed.  Ever since she’d noticed Sinbad eyeing her up the first time, it had been impossible not to notice, and it’s only become more frequent as the weeks and months went by.   “Enjoying yourself?”  

“Sorry, just feels nice, and I’m too tired to control my own mouth.”  

“It’s alright.  It’s been a long day.”  Ja’far rubs her fingers over Sinbad’s head and face for a few more minutes, then ties her hair into a loose tail, running her hands down the length and giving it a flick.  She gets up from her seat and goes to put her shoes back on.  “You don’t have any appointments tomorrow, so get some rest.”  

“Could you… could you stay with me tonight?”  Sinbad stammers out.  “It helps, when I’m stressed, and--”  

Ja’far sees Sinbad floundering, and _looking_ at her, and decides she has had enough.  Sinbad has never been this awkward around her, and it is wearing on her.  It’s only Sinbad, besides; so it’s not like anything can really damage the strength of their friendship at this point.  Ja’far isn’t typically inclined towards women, but she knows Sinbad is attractive and good in bed.  She can at least let her get it out of her system.  

Decision made, Ja’far is on top of her in a flash.  Before she can think better of it, she presses her lips hard to Sinbad’s, too rushed and poorly aimed.  She knows these movements well -- perhaps not as thoroughly as Sinbad, but well enough -- and grabs the back of her neck.  She plants her knees beside Sinbad’s thighs on the uncomfortably hard throne, and perches delicately in her lap, trying to keep the bulk of her weight off of her lap as she kisses her.  

Sinbad doesn’t respond for the longest time, long enough that Ja’far starts contemplating that she might have horribly misread the situation, before lurching up and embracing Ja’far with fervor.  She grabs Ja’far around the waist and upper back, bending her almost painfully backwards, trying to force their mouths even harder together.  

Ja’far isn’t exactly inexperienced, but she’s never been overwhelmed so quickly like this.  Sinbad’s body is pulsing in one long wave, starting at a roll of her hips and undulating up her spine until it reaches her neck and head, affecting the motions of her face against Ja’far’s.  Ja’far just gives in and drops her mouth open further, letting Sinbad press in.  She melds her torso against Sinbad’s, trying to synchronize their rhythmic movements.  Ja’far feels a bit of drool slide down her chin, and is just starting to really get into it when Sinbad pulls back with a gasp.

“Ja’far?” she manages to rasp out.  “What are you doing?”

Ja’far, for her part, thought her actions were quite clear.  “You wanted me; I’ve seen it so many times since I finally noticed.  You _want_ me, and it bothers you.  I’m here to give you whatever you need to be successful.”  She moves back in to continue their kiss when Sinbad stops her.  

“But I don’t want it if you don’t want me,” Sinbad says, and looks as though the truth of it pains her.  “Don’t do this simply because you’re loyal.  That will only make it worse, in the end.”  

Ja’far smiles a small smile as she grabs Sinbad’s hand, and forgoes her usually more reserved nature to guide it beneath layers of clothing.  She tells herself she has no need to be ashamed in front of Sinbad, and guides the hand to her entrance that is already growing more slippery and relaxed.  Ja’far rolls tentatively against their hands, trying to avoid looking at Sinbad’s face, but ending up meeting her eyes anyway.  “I want it, Sin.  I’ve thought about it for weeks, and I want it.  If something happens and we change our minds later, well, we’ve certainly stuck together through worse.”

Sinbad’s eyes grow distant for a moment as she thinks, and then she is all but attacking Ja’far.  She is lifted and pushed down to soft carpeting on the floor, Sinbad using her strength to her full advantage.  Lips meet hers once more and Ja’far tries to respond to them with equal enthusiasm, shifting angle and pressure, teeth and tongue.  Sinbad pushes her even harder into the ground and against all her instincts, Ja’far lets it happen, chests pressing together and then withdrawing slightly, ribs and hip bones sometimes making uncomfortable, grinding contact.  

Sinbad increases her previous efforts, nibbling at Ja’far’s neck and working her hands into the collar of her shirt to try and get it undone, mumbling Ja’far’s name repeatedly as she remembers who she has underneath her.

Ja’far goes to help her, picking expertly at the buttons high on her neck to open her shirt.  Halfway down, Sinbad stops, staring at Ja’far accusatorially.  “What I wouldn’t give to not have to wear a bra.”  She immediately digs a hand into Ja’far’s shirt, going to thumb over a nipple.  

Ja’far lets out a soft noise of appreciation and starts tugging Sinbad’s sash off of her shoulders.  “And I assure you, your rack is the envy of many, including myself sometimes.  Only for aesthetics, on my part, not for practicality.”  Ja’far gives a breathy laugh, and tosses the sash aside as the knot finally comes undone, leaving Sinbad in only her slitted skirt and form-fitted undergarments.  She tries to bunch Sinbad’s undershirt up around her waist, but realizes it won’t go high enough for her purposes.  Ja’far pushes at Sinbad’s chest, trying to get her to sit up.  “I want it off.”  

Sinbad is only too quick to lift herself off of Ja’far, going to her knees and yanking her shirt over her head, freeing it of her hair.  She is about to unclip her bra when she catches sight of Ja’far sitting in front of her, now totally freed of her own shirt, and decides the naked torso before her is of greater importance.  Sinbad reaches for Ja’far’s ankles and abuses her strength, pulling her towards herself, letting Ja’far squeak in indignation as she is dragged across the floor and into Sinbad’s lap.

She lets out a pleased hum at the skin-to-skin contact and pulls Ja’far’s head down for a brief kiss before starting to lick and bite lines down her neck and chest, chewing and sucking at any particularly prominent freckles she finds.  

Ja’far slumps against Sinbad, circling her arms loosely around her back, sometimes clawing at her shoulders in response to a particularly hard bite.  Eventually, she tires of this and works her hands up between their bodies to grab at Sinbad’s breasts, still covered by her bra.  Though Sinbad’s dark skin is beautiful against the smooth white fabric, Ja’far is suddenly filled with the need to know just how soft her breasts are in her hands.  She reaches around her back once more, and makes short work of unhooking the garment and letting it slip down between their bodies.  As soon as she grabs Sinbad’s chest, she moans into Ja’far’s neck and pushes herself harder into Ja’far’s hands, making the angle awkward with the closeness of their bodies.  Ja’far squeezes and decides her pale hands look even better there than the undergarment had.  

“Soft…” Ja’far murmurs, groping and rubbing with her fingers.  “Like I said, the envy of many.”  

Sinbad just snorts in response and sucks a bruise onto Ja’far’s collarbone in retaliation.  She can feel how Ja’far’s hands can barely cover half of her breasts, and pulls back a bit to look down.  Her stomach flutters and she pants a bit as she catches sight of their skin, struck by the incongruity.

Sinbad is unusually tall for a woman, curvy and soft at first glance, though thick bands of muscle course under her rolls of flesh as she bends, betraying her rather unfeminine strength.  Her skin is already of middling tone, and darkened much deeper from the sun.  Small, soft hairs cover her arms and further darken the appearance of her lower belly where they concentrate.  Much to her annoyance, they’d cover her legs thickly as well, if she didn’t shave religiously.

Ja’far is nothing like her, really; except, perhaps, for the fact that she is strong too, though in a more diminutive way.  Bones stick out a bit, and her body is less cushioned.  She is whip-thin and more fast than powerful, short and built for speed.  Though her body is sharp, her features are softer, without dark eyelashes, eyebrows, or hair to give them definition.  She’s almost hairless compared to Sinbad, and what she does have on her arms and legs is so pale it can barely be seen.  

Sinbad’s body and personality show she prefers to bludgeon people into submission, but Ja’far doesn’t even give her opponents the option of surrender face-to-face.  She slashes quickly and bounces out of range immediately, and rarely is it not fatal on first contact.  

A bit disturbingly, that thought just turns Sinbad on even more, and she stops thinking about any of this as she sucks a nipple into her mouth, laving her tongue over small, soft mounds of flesh.  

Ja’far cries out softly and starts rocking her hips, grinding down into Sinbad’s.  She pulls Sinbad’s mouth off of her nipple and tips her head up, leaning down to kiss her.  Sinbad complies, reaching her arms around Ja’far’s back to tug her in close, feeling breasts pushed together and skin rub along her slightly rounded lower belly as Ja’far continues to roll against her pelvis.  They’re both breathing heavily through their noses, not wanting to part from their messy kiss, when Sinbad decides to slip her hands under the waistband of Ja’far’s pants.  She grabs for Ja’far’s ass where it meets her thighs, squeezes hard, and pushes up.  

Their mouths part as Ja’far tips her head back, eyes closed, and gives a groan that is both pained and pleased.  She grabs Sinbad’s shoulders and starts rocking harder, pushing back into Sinbad’s bruising grasp, then forward to try and gain friction against her.  It’s not enough anymore, even when Sinbad starts reciprocating her humping movements.  Ja’far doesn’t really have a firm grasp on what she is doing, but she needs more than this.

“More, Sin,” she pants out, to make this need clear.  

Sinbad growls in response and pushes her back onto the floor.  She is new at this too, but knows what sort of things she likes, and is fairly certain she can replicate them.  She grabs Ja’far’s loose, billowy pants and yanks them down and off her ankles.  Her underwear is also quickly done away with, and any patience Sinbad might have had for further touching and teasing flies out the window at the sight of Ja’far laid out before her.  She goes right for between her legs, pulling her thighs apart.  

The fact that Ja’far lets her, with only a tiny squeak of surprise and no resistance, makes her blood boil just as much as the view now given her.  This is exactly what she’s wanted all these months, all the little reactions Ja’far gives, every twitch of her body Sinbad has never gotten to see in this way before.  Every tiny moment is so much more intense because Sinbad knows Ja’far’s usual behaviors so well.  Normally so guarded, Ja’far is completely vulnerable before her, with no signs of discomfort about it.  Sinbad’s heart thumps fast and hard in her chest.  

Ja’far gasps, then bites down on her own lip to cut it off when Sinbad’s tongue makes contact with her vagina.  It is an unusual sensation for her, something she rarely trusts her partners to do.  She doesn’t often let them be on top of her at all, actually, feeling uncomfortable with the vulnerable position it puts her in.  But she has none of these doubts with Sinbad, whom she trusts with her life every day.  Ja’far spreads her legs farther and pulls her knees up a bit towards her chest in an attempt to give Sinbad better access.  The wriggling of her tongue feels amazing, and she wants more.  

“Fuck,” Sinbad murmurs against her.  “You’re so beautiful and small under me.  You’re already so wet and I just want to--”  She grabs Ja’far’s slim thighs hard near where they meet her pelvis, wrapping her thumbs around the backs and digging her nails in.  Ja’far is trying to quiet her noises, but Sinbad wants to hear them.  She knows the most surefire way to do so, and strokes her tongue up her slit to her clitoris, flicking over it rapidly before sucking it into her mouth.  

Ja’far keens.  It’s still soft in volume, but long, drawn out, and accompanied by a desperate twitch of her hips.  She continues this for a while, sometimes stroking, sometimes just pushing the flat of her tongue against it and licking upwards, occasionally sucking her clit into her mouth to lap over hard and fast, until Ja’far is panting hard and her thighs are quaking, hands scrabbling at the carpet and then into Sinbad’s hair.  Sinbad decides to change tactics and strokes down to Ja’far’s entrance, circling her tongue languidly around the hole, feeling Ja’far drip around her, something she thinks she shouldn’t like, but does.  The odor is faint, but still more than Ja’far ever has, and Sinbad finds herself liking that too.

Ja’far takes a sharp breath and the strange sensation of Sinbad now somewhere besides her clitoris, and that is all the confirmation Sinbad needs to stick her tongue inside.  Ja’far lets out the first noise that isn’t high and breathy, a guttural sort of groan from deep in her chest.  She’s a bit embarrassed by it, but Ja’far looks down self-consciously and sees Sinbad looking absolutely enamored with her reaction.  Sinbad’s eyes are nearly shut, hips rolling instinctively down into the floor, timed with the thrusts of her tongue inside Ja’far.  Somehow, despite only very shallow penetration, that tongue is better than any of the fingers Ja’far has ever had inside her.  Something about the smoothness and strange rippling; she isn’t of the mind to analyze it right then.  

Sinbad decides to reinstate some variety, and draws her tongue out to stroke back along Ja’far’s labia and to her clit, but Ja’far just gives a cry of dismay and grabs for Sinbad’s head to push it back down.  

“I’ll take care of it, just keep your tongue inside,” Ja’far breathes out.  “Not much longer.  Just like this.”  

Sinbad’s breath catches hard in her chest, her stomach clenching at the idea of Ja’far coming around her tongue.  She can feel herself soaking through her own panties, but is more than willing to ignore it to finish the task at hand,  Sinbad looks at Ja’far and nods frantically, swiftly diving down to stick her tongue back in.  

Knowing Sinbad appreciates it, Ja’far gives a long, low moan this time.  She can feel Sinbad’s hurried breaths through her nose against her wet flesh, and shakes a little when Sinbad gives a responding moan of her own.  Ja’far’s fingers dart hurriedly to her own clit and begin to rub gently, then harder.  

In a disjointed way, Ja’far hears her own breaths echoing loud and ragged through the cavernous room, and then she isn’t aware of much at all.  Her fingers are moving frantically against herself and her hips lift slightly from the floor.  Ja’far throws her head back and her expression pinches dramatically, mouth open in a scream so high it’s nothing but a silent rush of air.  

The clenching Sinbad feels around her tongue is rapid, and surprisingly strong.  It is a grasping squeeze, trying to pull her tongue in farther than it can go.  Sinbad thinks she could cry, watching Ja’far like this, or at least what she can see and feel of her.  All she can see is a vague contortion of her face, and hears the silent hiss of air from her mouth as Ja’far comes.  All of her usual composure and control is gone, and then some.  Her unoccupied hand is a violent claw in the carpet, her chest is heaving, her abdominals twitching, muscles in her legs spasming at random, and only Sinbad’s hard grip is keeping her hips from jerking about.  Finally, her hand stops moving, the frantic squeezing slows, and Ja’far’s hips sink back down to the ground.  

Sinbad pulls back and pulls her knees underneath her, sitting up and looking at the mess she has made of Ja’far, doing nothing more than lying prostrate on the ground, dripping sweat and fluids into the carpet, occasionally giving a residual shudder and panting frantically.  Sinbad is breathing hard, as well.

“Holy _fuck_ ,” she states, because it is really the only way to sum up her feelings on the matter, and wipes at her mouth with the back of her hand.

Ja’far just laughs breathlessly and cracks open her eyes to look at Sinbad.  “Agreed.  Just give me a moment and then it’s your turn.”  

“I’ll wait all the moments you want if you’re going to lie there looking like that.”  

Ja’far drops her legs and gives a half-hearted kick at Sinbad.  “Stop staring.”  

“Not on your life,” Sinbad replies with a grin.  “I worked hard for this view.”  

Ja’far’s head falls back onto the carpet and she takes a few long, slow breaths before pushing up onto her elbows.  

“What do you want me to do?”  

“Whatever you normally like.  I’m sure you can figure something out,” Sinbad says, splaying her legs out so she can pull off her panties.  “On second thought, the more you want to put in me, the better,” Sinbad adds.  

“Alright.”  Ja’far has a starting point now, and pushes up onto her knees, scooting forward until she has reached Sinbad’s spread legs.  She shoves her skirt out of the way, eyes the new sight appreciatively, and presses a quick kiss between her legs.  

Sinbad moans, and it’s almost enough to get Ja’far started right away, but she decides to be a bit more thorough, trailing kisses out and along one dark thigh and feeling short hairs prickle into her lips and tongue where they have grown out since Sinbad last shaved.  Sinbad whimpers as Ja’far gets farther and farther from where she wants her.  The weak little noise stirs something in Ja’far, and so she picks a spot high on the inside of Sinbad’s thigh, where the flesh is especially pliable, and bites down.  

Sinbad gasps and clamps her thighs hard around Ja’far’s head, just pushing her teeth into her flesh farther.  She grunts, inordinately pleased with the idea of Ja’far marking her, and forces her thighs back apart.  

“Get inside,” she demands.

Ja’far abandons her idea of foreplay and sticks one finger unceremoniously into Sinbad, as far as it will go.  She is burning and quivering inside, and one goes in so easily, clearly she needs two.  Sinbad moans at that, clenching down to try and make them feel bigger, rolling her hips hard.  Ja’far realizes with how excited Sinbad’s body is right now; more, even this quickly, is only going to feel good.  

With three fingers deep in Sinbad, Ja’far realizes she is in the perfect position to dig a thumb into her ass.  It’s not an idea that usually appeals to Ja’far, as dirty as it is, but seeing as Sinbad just had her face in her crotch for who knows who long, Ja’far finds herself with few qualms and only wanting to get Sinbad off.  She rubs her thumb briefly along Sinbad’s perineum, using the moisture dripping down from her vagina, and sticks the tip of her thumb into Sinbad’s anus.  

The reaction is immediate, with both orifices clamping hard around her fingers.  Sinbad gives a loud shout, and Ja’far feels her own body heat with satisfaction.  Ja’far starts flexing her fingers up, pushing against the front wall of Sinbad’s vaginal canal, where she knows from experience it feels especially good.  She can’t curl them in the way she would like, with her hand forced into the opposite direction by the thumb in Sinbad’s ass, but hopefully between her fingers flexing and her wrist moving, this will be enough.  

“Shit, Ja’far.  Shit, shit, shit.”  Sinbad rocks her hips half out of reflex, half to help Ja’far get to the spot she wants.  Every time they manage to push especially hard, Sinbad gives a high moan and her body clenches down, the feeling only enhanced with how she can feel her own asshole gripping tight around Ja’far’s thumb.  

“Suck on my clit and keep doing exactly what you’re doing,” Sinbad pants out.  

Ja’far is quick to comply, having to shift her weight to keep her hand in place and get her head in the correct position.  As soon as she does, Sinbad starts on a litany of noises.  Some of them are her name, others curses, most just indecipherable sounds.  Based upon the cries she’s often heard through the shared wall of their separate bedrooms, Ja’far thinks she is doing fairly well.  

Sinbad knows she’s getting close and starts rocking hard into Ja’far’s hand and mouth, trying to get everything as deep it will go.  Ja’far notices and puts her spare hand beneath Sinbad’s hips to help, jamming her fingers in hard.  She taps the tip of her tongue against Sinbad’s clit, currently between her lips, and everything stills, vagina and anus so tight around her fingers she can barely move them, breath caught in both their chests and every muscle in Sinbad’s body strung tight as a bowstring, hips poised high.  The brief instant is broken as Sinbad _screams_ , and Ja’far would worry about guards coming running if she weren’t so certain of the soundproofing of this room herself.  

Sinbad’s orgasm is more controlled than Ja’far’s, despite her noises.  Her hips dip rapidly up and down, helping Ja’far keep moving in her.  Her hands go to Ja’far’s head and stay there, though they twitch erratically in her hair.  Somehow, she manages to focus all of her tension into only the curl of her toes, the clenching of her sphincters, and her sharp shouts.  Every time Ja’far thinks it must surely be over, Sinbad bobs her hips again, pushes Ja’far’s fingers in, and gives another clench accompanied by a cry.  Finally it ends without warning, dropping the arch in her back so fast that it pulls Ja’far’s fingers out, and Sinbad’s hands from her hair.  Sinbad herself just lies there, gasping for air, leaving her knees in the air and her feet planted until they eventually just fall to the side.  

Ja’far is actually a bit concerned.  “Are you alright?  That… just kept going.”  

“I’m great,” Sinbad finally gets out, running her own hands over her sides and across her abdomen.  “That was a good one.”  

“Ah, I had a feeling that was only achieved through practice.”  

“Of course,” Sinbad grins.  “You’re the one keeping track of how much sex I have.  You think I didn’t get good at it?”  

Ja’far playfully smacks at her hip, where it is forming a pronounced roll with how her legs are splayed out, and crawls on top of Sinbad.  

“Don’t smack my fat, Ja’far,” Sinbad pouts, and Ja’far tries to wipe the frown from her lips with a sticky kiss.  She then sits up and grabs for Sinbad’s breasts once again.

“Some of it is so nice, though.”  She kneads suggestively.  “Besides, I don’t have any, so maybe I just want to live vicariously through you.”  

Sinbad kicks her heels in fake annoyance and pulls Ja’far back against her chest.  After a few minutes of giggling, teasing, and grabbing, Ja’far feels the need to ask, in case they should relocate to a more comfortable sleeping location.

“Are you done?”  

“Definitely not,” Sinbad says.  

“Good, because neither am I,” and with that, Ja’far starts undulating her body against Sinbad’s again, and Sinbad’s face flushes and her pupils dilate in response.  

At this point, Ja’far is actually a bit confused by the logistics of the whole thing.  They both seem to want deeper penetration, but any position she can think of seems stiff, difficult, or tiring.  Even getting into a position for simultaneous oral sex just seems like someone is going to be left with a painful neck or having to balance on only one hand.  

“Uh, Sin?  How exactly did we want to do this?”

Sinbad looks momentarily upset at having her amorous snuggling interrupted, but then her face lights up in excitement and she scrambles off of Ja’far, moving to tug Ja’far up after her.  She starts throwing on just enough clothing to cover herself quickly.  “Bedroom,” she says, which is when Ja’far realizes they just had sex on the floor of the throne room.  She’s never going to be able to look at that carpet in the same way again.  

After a hurried walk through darkened back hallways, they end up in Sinbad’s bedroom unseen, and Ja’far finds herself nearly thrown onto the bed as soon as the door is closed and locked.  In any other situation, her instincts would kick in and she’d have a fist planted in her attacker’s throat, but all she does now is make an angry noise and try to hit Sinbad with a pillow.  

She does manage to roll on top of Sinbad eventually in the ensuing tumble, some of their clothes off, others still on.  Things are just starting to get heavy again when Sinbad remembers her original purpose, and tumbles Ja’far off of her, climbing from the bed to go rifle through her dresser drawers.  One by one, she starts throwing objects of varied shape, material, and color onto the bed, and Ja’far is honestly a little bit flabbergasted that she had absolutely no idea Sinbad possessed any of these… toys.  Because that must certainly be what they are, though a vast majority are a mystery to Ja’far.

“There are so many,” Ja’far observes.  

Sinbad blushes.  “Don’t tell anyone.  It’s not like I can’t find men to please me, I just… like them.”  

“You mean you don’t use these?”

“Not with other people, no.  Can you imagine how the average man would react to this?”  She tosses an object with a lot of switches and appendages in Ja’far’s direction.  Ja’far picks it up and tries to figure out what it all does.  “It’s not well-received, in hook ups.  Just makes them think they’re not enough for me,” Sinbad explains.  “Sometimes they aren’t, but god forbid I let them know and try to fix the situation.”  

Ja’far grabs a smooth glass object and brings it up to her face to examine it.  It’s relatively small, with a tapered, bulbed end that narrows and ends in what Ja’far can only assume is some sort of handle.  

“Buttplug,” Sinbad supplies helpfully.  

“Ah, that does make sense with the smaller size.  Why this?”  She points to the rather sparkly handle at the end.  

“So it doesn’t get uh… lost,” Sinbad stammers out.  “Plus, it’s cute.”  

Ja’far snorts in amusement.  “That would be a fun story to tell later.”  

Sinbad goes back to fishing for toys and Ja’far reaches for the jar of lube.  She is unworried about sharing toys, knowing well both her and Sinbad are clean of infection, having signed the doctor’s receipts herself.  She unscrews the lid of the jar, dips the tip of the plug in, covers the rest with her fingers, and reaches behind herself to slick her anus as well.  One deep breath, and she pushes it in with a soft grunt.   

Sinbad hears Ja’far shifting on the bed, and she looks up just in time to see rounded pink glass disappearing into her asshole.  She chokes a bit as arousal at the sight makes her body jerk.  

Ja’far sits herself back down and circles her hips experimentally against the bed.  It’s a bit cold, and she’ll have to clean it later, but overall it feels quite nice, snug and secure inside.  

“I like this,” she declares.  

“I honestly can’t believe you just did that,” Sinbad says a bit shakily.  

Ja’far just shrugs.  “I don’t like it all the time, but sometimes my ass feels nice.”  

“No, not that, just...” Sinbad abandons words and wiggles her fingers to demonstrate her point.  “Nothing else first?  Ouch.”  

“Oh.  I just think it’s kind of gross to stick my fingers up my butt.  This seemed much more sanitary.  I lubed it well and it’s not that big.”  The glass is warming now and Ja’far clenches around it, huffing as this makes it easier to feel the contours of it inside.  “I’m going to need to get one of these.”  

Sinbad marches over to her and looks down at her with great seriousness, though the effect is slightly ruined by her semi-nudity and the large purple dildo wobbling in her hand.  “Ja’far.  Let me see.”  

“See what?”  Ja’far teases, and then squeaks as Sinbad grabs her legs and hauls them up, tipping Ja’far back onto her hands behind her on the bed.  

Sinbad immediately squats down to examine Ja’far’s efforts.  “See this.”  Nails click against glass as she flicks the sparkly end of the plug still outside her body, and then grins as Ja’far visibly twitches.  “Told you, it’s cute.”  

Ja’far kicks playfully at Sinbad until she backs off and lets her legs drop back to the floor.  She can’t exactly see the plug from this angle, so she’ll just have to take Sinbad’s word for it.  Eventually she draws her knees up to her chest, spreading them slightly to try and give Sinbad a peek.  “So are you just going to leave me to take care of myself all night while you poke through drawers?  Because in that case, I guess I’ll just get started on my own.”  

She looks briefly insulted, and then Sinbad quickly turns more predatory, stripping off the split-legged skirt she is still wearing and stalking over to Ja’far.  She grabs her knees and pulls them apart, and Ja’far doesn’t make a fight of it, letting Sinbad stand over her and between her legs.  This close, she can see a drop of moisture trailing down Sinbad’s thigh.  “Did you want something?”  

Sinbad doesn’t even bother to respond to the tease before shoving the rather large toy she’d been holding into Ja’far’s face.  “Suck this, and then fuck me.”  With that command, she drops the dildo in Ja’far’s lap, then scrambles onto the bed to prop herself up on pillows so she can comfortably watch.  

Ja’far holds the toy up and she can’t hold back a laugh as it wobbles back and forth.  

“Don’t laugh!”  

“I can’t help it,” she giggles, “just look at it!”  Ja’far shakes it rapidly and then stills, watching it jiggle to a stop, and dissolves into another fit of laughter.  

Sinbad does have to admit it’s kind of objectively hilarious, if for no other reason than that Ja’far finds it so hilarious.  More pressingly to her, though, is being incredibly turned on and having no outlet.  “Ja’farrr,” she whines.  

Ja’far lets out a few more giggles, and finally gives in.  “Alright alright, keep your pants on.  Or, uh… you know what I mean.”  

Sinbad does laugh at that, but quickly falls silent again as Ja’far turns to fully face her, crossing her legs on the bed and bringing the head of the phallus to her lips.  She parts them gently and lets it slip inside just the barest bit.  The uniform and odorless surface feels strange on her tongue.  

Ja’far knows what men like when they have their cock sucked, they’re easy to please, but she doesn’t know what Sinbad likes.  Or even why Sinbad wants to watch her do this at all.  She bobs her head a bit, trying to wedge the toy deeper without being too uncomfortable, as it’s a bit larger than she really wants to take properly.  She gags slightly and pushes no farther, pausing to look up at Sinbad.  Her eyes are fixed on Ja’far’s mouth and she is breathing quickly through her nose.  Ja’far keeps eye contact as she draws the toy from her mouth with an intentional pop, letting a string of saliva trail from her lips and eventually snap, no matter that she normally finds such a thing a bit gross.

Sinbad flushes, and that makes it worth it.  She licks a long line up the shaft, circling her tongue around the head, and Sinbad unmistakably fidgets.  She puts the toy back into her mouth, this time leaving her tongue out of her mouth, hanging slightly above her bottom lip, and slides the head in and out, sometimes turning it to push at her cheek.  Sinbad opens her mouth to pant a bit, and distracted by this response, Ja’far accidentally catches her teeth on the ridge as she pulls it from her mouth.  For a man, this would be uncomfortable, but Sinbad just makes an involuntary noise of excitement.  Ja’far does it again, scraping her teeth over the shaft, and Sinbad licks her lips.  

Ja’far knows what to do now, and goes about doing it.  She licks and sucks, tongue moving elaborately and weaving strange patterns.  Every once in a while, she pauses to catch her teeth somewhere, making sure Sinbad can see it.  Every time she does, Sinbad reacts, shifting or gasping or biting at her lip.  It all finally becomes too much for Ja’far and she reaches one hand down to touch herself, biting down on the head of the dildo and chewing slightly at the first press to her clitoris.  

“Enough, come here,” Sinbad rasps out, and Ja’far is only too glad to comply.  She pushes Sinbad onto her back in the pillows, and climbs on top of her, crawling between her legs and lying down, pushing her face into soft breasts.  She starts giving them the same treatment as the toy, sucking and nibbling as she closes her eyes and relaxes into Sinbad.  Sinbad’s hips buck beneath her, and Ja’far gives a soft little noise in response.  She pulls herself higher, head tucked into Sinbad’s neck, so they can roll their pelvises together.  Sinbad grabs at Ja’far’s ass, pushing and pulling the cheeks apart as they move.  Ja’far is suddenly and violently reminded of the plug still in her and lets out a groan into Sinbad’s hair, clenching her ass and shaking her hips side to side quickly.  

Sinbad grunts at the noise, surprised at the violent shock of arousal it causes low in her belly.  She feels acutely empty, all of a sudden, and no amount of Ja’far’s caresses can appease her.  “Put it in me,” she gasps out.  “All of it, as far as it will go.”  

Ja’far can only assume she is referring to the dildo she had been instructed to suck, but she had assumed Sinbad would have wanted further preparation first.  “Now?”  

“Now,”  Sinbad confirms, but senses her hesitation.  “I’ll like it, I promise.  Just put it in and leave it.  Don’t do anything else yet.”  

Sinbad is positively dripping, but Ja’far lubes the toy up, anyway, seeing as her fingers, small though they are, are a far cry from fitting around it.  “I can’t believe you were impressed by the plug earlier, considering you insist on taking this thing.”  She pauses to kiss Sinbad’s clit, tapping her tongue on it briefly.  

“ _In_ , Ja’far,” Sinbad insists, and she complies, pressing the head to Sinbad’s entrance.  Ja’far is a bit concerned at the amount of force it takes to push the first part in, but Sinbad encourages her and tips her hips up to help.  Finally, the head slides in, and the stretching of Sinbad’s labial lips and vaginal sphincter around the large object is oddly fascinating to Ja’far, who keeps pushing, watching as the flesh somehow gives.  Once the first few inches are inside, the rest is a relatively easy slide until Ja’far meets resistance and stops.  Sinbad lets out a loud exhale that sounds not only like pleasure, but like _relief_.  

“Fuck, I always miss this,” she groans.  Ja’far is briefly worried as Sinbad spans her hands over the skin beneath her belly button, but her words confirm it is born out of pleasure and not pain.  Sinbad pulses her hips in small, twitching movements.  “So full, all the way in, up to my cervix….”  She gives one larger roll and groans, grabbing blindly for Ja’far’s hand, and dragging it to her belly.  “Do you feel it?”  

Sure enough, Ja’far does feel it, with every small undulation of Sinbad’s body, the toy pressing up into her hand.  Even when she removes her hand, she can see it subtly distorting the flesh of her abdomen whenever Sinbad makes a more pronounced movement.  

“I feel it,” she breathes out.  “Do you -- do you want anything else?”  

Sinbad shakes her head.  “Just leave it for a few minutes.  Let me get used to it.”  She rolls up to rest back on her forearms and pants as this moves the toy a bit inside of her.  “You want something too, right?  Take your pick.”  Sinbad laughs with a bit of anxiety.  

“I don’t, I mean….” Ja’far pauses.  “Uh, what do you recommend?”  

Sinbad fishes around and comes up with something pink and, thankfully, of normal proportions.  “Try this.  It has a vibration setting, which will feel great against your plug.”  

Ja’far nods and reaches for it.  

“Here, let me.”  Sinbad beckons Ja’far to perch above her hips.  She’d love to push Ja’far down into the mattress and shove it into her, but the object inside her doesn’t exactly encourage movement.  Ja’far crawls over to sit on her hips.  “Up,” Sinbad says, and Ja’far rolls up onto her knees.  Sinbad carefully positions the end of the toy on her own belly, and lines it up to Ja’far’s entrance.  “Now down.”  

The dildo slides easily into her, and Ja’far moans long and low as it reaches nearly as far inside her as it can go.  She bounces slightly once it is all in, relishing the pressure against several nice spots on her vaginal walls, and feeling the strange sensation of soft plastic rubbing against the hard glass in her rectum, separated by only a thin wall of flesh.  

Sinbad also groans as Ja’far’s ass and thighs meet her own hips and belly, but for an entirely different reason.  Ja’far’s weight upon her is pushing her own toy hard against the surface of her lower abdominals, and only increasing the sense of fullness she craves.  Every time Ja’far moves, the base of her toy pushes into Sinbad’s belly, and against the head of the thing inside her in the process.  Sinbad could cry from how accidentally perfect it is.  

“Right there, Ja’far.”  Sinbad has to stop as it hits again and she grunts.  “They’re hitting together whenever you move.”  

Ja’far realizes what Sinbad is talking about, and keeps herself right where she is.  It’s nice enough for her, to sit above Sinbad and watch her face twitch in something she can’t tell is pleasure or pain.  There are weird squishing noises whenever they both move, but Ja’far finds them somehow arousing, that they’re both that turned on.  

Suddenly, Sinbad’s hands dart toward her genitals, but instead of touching they just flick a switch.  The room fills with buzzing, and Ja’far lets out a little screech.  For a moment, she can think only of her own pleasure, and starts humping against this newfound sensation, unintentionally pushing hard and fast against Sinbad below her.  She remembers herself when she hears Sinbad giving quiet, choking cries, and stops to look down at her.  Sinbad’s mouth is open and her eyes are shut tight, tears leaking out of the corners.  

“Oh my god, are you ok, Sin?  I’m so sorry, I just lost myself for a bit.”  Ja’far is just about to sit up and make sure everything is alright, when Sinbad’s hands grab her hips to stop her.  

“No, yeah, I’m good.  I’m so, soooo good,” Sinbad slurs.  “Just intense.  Keep going.”  

“If you’re certain.”  Ja’far starts moving again.

“Wait, actually, one more thing.”  

Sinbad lifts herself awkwardly to shove pillows under her own hips to give her a better angle with less effort, though it is no small effort in and of itself to do so with Ja’far still on top of her.  Ja’far has to sit up for a moment, disturbing their set-up, and it takes a while to find it again, moving, then adjusting, then trying again.  But when they do, Sinbad is rewarded when it pushes the toy in and out of her incrementally as the end of it hits the bed, and she doesn’t need to move much anyway, the sheer size within her is enough, especially with how Ja’far pushes down on it inside of her.  It forces Ja’far to lean forward, planting her hands on the bed on either side of Sinbad for better leverage to move.  “Fuck, Ja’far.  My clit, if you can,” she pants out.  Ja’far twists to reach one of her hands back, fingers rubbing fast circles over Sinbad.  Sinbad lets out a high keen in response, and starts rocking faster into the contact.  

The vibrator inside her is probably enough, but Sinbad wants to help, anyway, and moves her hands to Ja’far’s waist; one staying fixed at her hip, the other moving towards her clitoris.  When Ja’far throws her head back and gives an eager noise, Sinbad is struck with inspiration, and moves her unoccupied hand back to wiggle the plug in small, quick movements within Ja’far.  Ja’far practically wails in response, humping fast and hard into Sinbad’s belly, increasing the pressure inside Sinbad as she does.  

It’s beyond both of their controls now, fast and hot and frantic, an awkward splay of limbs.  It’s bizarre, to have so many shared sensations and points of contact, yet no body parts penetrating one another.  

Sinbad comes first, her body seizing underneath Ja’far, much as she had the last time, and with the two brain cells Ja’far has left functioning in her head, she sits up and reaches her other hand back to grab the end of Sinbad’s toy, circling it around, trying to replicate what had seemed to be an excellent orgasm previously.  Sinbad’s back bends against the pillows, and she nearly yells every time Ja’far pushes the toy in and out of her in conjunction with her own efforts.  

Ja’far is almost at the edge, fighting to maintain her own movements.  To keep herself pressing the end of her own vibrating toy against Sinbad’s belly, rubbing at her clit, and also thrusting that dildo into her at the correct moments takes every bit of brainpower she has left.  Only the vague but powerful thought that she wants this to be the best sex that Sinbad has ever had keeps her from losing herself entirely.  

True to this, as soon as Sinbad’s back relaxes into the bed, Ja’far loses it.  She grabs Sinbad’s hand, seeing as she is nearly insensate at the point, and rubs it against her, hips moving fast and spasmodically, just trying to get as much and as fast as she can.  The vibrator is strange against the hard object in her ass, buzzing and creating a sort of tension.  Sinbad gives one last uncontrolled thrust of her hips, and this pushes the toy inside Ja’far far enough to push a bit painfully against her cervix.  

For some reason she doesn’t care to discern, this is what sets Ja’far off, and she doesn’t even know what sort of absurd noises she makes as she finally comes.  It’s highly visceral, and something she’s never felt before, things grinding together inside of her.  Her torso buckles over Sinbad, falling down to lay elbows on either side of her chest, letting Sinbad rub lethargically against her clit as her hips spasm against her pelvis.  

It goes on almost too long for Ja’far’s comfort, and when her body finally stops clenching long enough for her to unlock her abdominals and sit up,  she hurries to turn off the vibrator and pull it out of herself.  The plug is a bit more challenging, but when she relaxes a bit it comes out easily, and she tosses them both off the bed to be dealt with in the morning.  

Ja’far collapses back against Sinbad and makes sure she is still conscious and breathing.  “Sin,” she calls.  “Sin, you gotta get that thing out.”  Ja’far just licks sloppily at her cheek, still glowing and feeling slightly inebriated with satiated exhaustion.  

“Mm nooo.  Too tired.  Leave it there.  Was I good?”  

Ja’far stirs herself to address the issue, as she often has to do when it comes to Sinbad.  “You can’t leave it there.  Relax.”  Ja’far can’t tell if Sinbad does, but pulls the thing out anyway, still vaguely impressed by its size.  Sinbad groans as it leaves her, then rolls onto her side as Ja’far tosses it away too.  

“You enjoyed it, right?”  Sinbad persists in her question.  “Because that honestly might have been better than anything I’ve ever had.”  

Ja’far doubts that, with Sinbad’s long history, but replies anyway.  “It was great.  Never felt anything like that.”  

“Good,” Sinbad murmurs sleepily, grabbing onto Ja’far.  “Because I’ve never felt that, either.  Aching in my chest and….”  She trails off.  “It’s better now; feels so nice, still.”  

Ja’far throws a leg over Sinbad’s hip and tries to drift off before she can realize how sticky everything is.  “Mhmm.  Night.”  

It’s barely a minute before they are both asleep.  

* * *

 

Sinbad wakes up blearily, only to open her eyes and find Ja’far staring at her, face a bit shiny from the sweat of last night’s efforts.  Pale eyelashes flutter as she blinks, and she smiles when she sees Sinbad is finally awake.  She wriggles over closer until she can tuck her head under her chin, and Sinbad finds herself inexplicably _embarrassed_ .  The first time she’s ever slept with Ja’far, and she had to go and let her see that side of her.  The weird one, that is, with dozens of toys and how she likes the size bulging her belly, the whole mess.   _Shit_ , she thinks, _I really should have talked about it before all of this.  What if she thinks this was only a one time thing, what if--_

“G’morning, Sin.”  

Sinbad stiffens.  “Morning.”  

Ja’far pulls her head back to look at her curiously.  “What’s wrong?  I thought you’d like being cuddled.  You’re always so touchy-feely.  I can get up and draw a bath or something if you’d like.  We don’t have to be anywhere for over an hour.”  

Ja’far starts to get up and Sinbad is tempted to let her go, if only so that she can avoid the issue a bit longer.  But if she does, it will only continue to torment her, and she might as well just get it out there while she has the opportunity.  She pulls Ja’far back down and close enough against her that she can only see messy white hair, rather than her face.  This is definitely not something she can do with eye contact.

“No, you’re right.  I like cuddling.”  Sinbad takes a deep breath.  “It’s just, last night, we should have talked about it more before and I--”

“It’s alright, Sin.  It was good.  I would have stopped you if it wasn’t.”  

“Not that, I mean it was, definitely, but… uh.”  She trails off and gives a frustrated groan.  “It’s just -- I love you, Ja’far.”  

Ja’far chuckles at how hard it was for Sinbad to get that out, when she thought it had been clear for years.  “Of course.  I love you too.”  

It is said with far too much ease, and Sinbad knows Ja’far didn’t really understand what she meant.  “No!”  Sinbad makes an agonized noise.  “Not like best friends, loyal companions type of love.  I mean the holding hands, smiley kisses kind!  Where I can buy you jewelry and take you to dinner and every other horrible cliche that entails.”  

Ja’far lets out a surprised noise just behind Sinbad’s ear.  “Oh.   _Oh._ ”  There is a long pause, and then Ja’far pushes against Sinbad’s grasp so she can shift back and look her in the eyes, her face slightly scrunched and scrutinizing.  “Really?  I mean, I just thought you were looking at me like that because you wanted me for sex and were using your newfound professionalism not to say anything.”  

Sinbad feels her stomach drop.  She never should have let this happen in the first place, and she knew it.  Still, apparently she is determined to keep putting her foot in her mouth.  “You’re too important to do that to, Ja’far.  And sorry; I didn’t think you’d noticed I was, uh, ‘looking’ at you.  So then when you started it, I just thought you… I don’t know.  I wasn’t thinking at all, actually.”  She feels unbearably awkward in a way she never does with interpersonal interactions.  “I’d never even slept with another woman before.”  

“Seriously?”  Ja’far can’t keep the surprise from her voice.

“What?”  Sinbad asks defensively.  “You have?”

“No.  At least, not technically,” Ja’far mutters.  “But I don’t get around half as much as you do, I guess I’d just assumed.”  

“Well I hadn’t.  So it was definitely not just for spontaneous sex.”  Sinbad sighs.  “I’m sorry.  I should have made that clear before I put you through all this.  Now it’s just going to be weird and I’m really not good at this.  I’ve never actually tried to be in a relationship, but obviously I did it in the wrong order.”  Sinbad rolls over onto her belly and shoves her face in the pillow, hoping this whole situation will all go away so she doesn’t have to deal with it, or maybe that she just suffocates.    

Ja’far laughs lightly and musses Sinbad’s hair on the back of her head.  “It’ll be alright, Sin.  We’ve been through much worse.”  She rolls into a ball and tugs the downy comforter up over her face until just her grey eyes are peeking out, a shield against the morning chill.  “I’m no expert myself, you know,” Ja’far says, muffled through the blanket.  “I’ve always had so many other things to do that I’d never even spared the energy for it.  I’d never seen you romantically attached to anyone; I just figured you were the same as me.”  

Sinbad finally extracts her face from the pillow, twisting it awkwardly to the side.  “I _was_ .  I’d never wanted any of these things in my life, until recently.  These last six months have been so _weird_ and I hate it!”  She twists back into the pillow.  “Make it go away, Ja’far,” are her barely audible next words.  

“I don’t think it works like that, Sin.”  

Sinbad makes a nonsensical groan into her pillow.

Ja’far thinks for a moment, not in a worried fashion, just considering this whole rendezvous in a new light.  

“I don’t think I’m against trying, actually.”  

Sinbad jerks her head up in surprise.  “What?  The relationship thing?”  

Ja’far nods.  “I mean, if I would ever be that close with anyone, I’d really only be comfortable with it being you.”  

“You’re not just saying that because you feel bad for me?  Even just because you want me to be happy?”  Sinbad furrows her brows accusingly.  

Ja’far thinks again for a worryingly long while.  “No.  I think both of those things are a factor, but I also think it sounds nice.  Holding hands and flowers and dinners.”  

Sinbad sits up, crosses her legs, and looks at Ja’far in her blanket-covered ball.  “Do you like flowers, Ja’far?”

She’s a bit perplexed by the seriousness on Sinbad’s face, but answers.  “Only if they don’t smell very strongly.  Those just give me a headache.”

Sinbad’s face lights up.  “Good.  Your desk always looks so boring, anyway.”  

“I’ll show you boring.”  Ja’far sits up and tackles Sinbad back onto the bed.  She could turn it into something more, but frankly there isn’t time, so she just settles for tickling.  Amidst Sinbad’s choked protests, she plants a kiss on her forehead and then gets off of her, rolling to the edge of the bed.  

“Now we actually do need to get up and bathe, or we’ll be quite a sight for whoever catches us first.”  Ja’far looks down at her chest and is glad her shirt has a high collar, or she’d have some explaining to do.  

Sinbad rolls out after her, taking half of the sheets to the floor with her.  

“Yes, dear,” she replies mockingly, and Ja’far just throws a shoe at her, aiming badly on purpose, so that it misses.  


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WOOPS hello

Ja’far returns from her lunch meeting to find a tiny pink orchid on her desk.  Much more tasteful than anything she’d normally chalk up to Sinbad -- not to mention it doesn’t block her work -- but Sinbad has always categorically disliked giving or receiving cut flowers.  Something about growing something beautiful only to slowly watch it die.  Ja’far always thought it a bit morbid, considering flowers were just an industry like any other crop, but everyone was allowed their hang-ups.  

As she rounds her desk, Ja’far sees a little note stuck below it reading “Dinner?” with a winky face.   _ Of course a winky face _ , Ja’far thinks.   _ Silly me, thinking Sinbad could ever do something entirely classy. _  She then has a moment of panic that a stray assistant might have seen the note and gossip is already circulating.  It’s unlikely that someone has been in her office during the hour she has been away, but if they were, Sinbad’s handwriting is recognizable to most palace workers.  

Just then, Ja’far’s panicking is interrupted by the office door swinging open, and she rapidly shoves the note in a desk drawer.  

“Ja’faaaar,” Sinbad sing-songs as she spins through the doorway, looking far too pleased with herself.  

“Sin.” Ja’far drops her startled posture and sighs, then grabs the note back out of her drawer.  “What did you think you were doing?”  She holds the offending missive up for Sinbad to see.

“Giving you flowers?  You didn’t like them?”  Sinbad’s face falls.

“No, the flowers are very nice.  I mean the note.”  She waves it around for emphasis.

“Asking you to dinner?”  

“Sin, anyone could have seen this!”  Ja’far screeches.  

“And then they would have known you have a date.  It’s not that big a deal,” Sinbad puts her hands up in protest.  

“Everyone in this palace recognizes your handwriting, Sinbad.  They would have known I had a date with  _ you _ !”  

“Oh.”  Sinbad looks sadly at the floor.  “I guess that would be bad.”  

Ja’far crumples the note up and shoves it back in her desk to be disposed of later.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to yell.  You were just trying to be cute, and it’s not that I  _ wouldn’t  _ tell people, it’s just....”   

“I know,” Sinbad sighs.  “Lord knows I’ve faced enough opposition for my gender already.  It’d be bad if rumors like that started circulating.”  She frowns in annoyance, then perks up.  “Anyway, dinner?”

Ja’far can’t help but smile a bit at how excited Sinbad looks.  “And where are we going to go, where no one can see us?”

Sinbad had not thought of this, as accustomed as she is to all her trysts just being public knowledge.  “Uh, we can’t just go somewhere and pretend it’s a normal dinner?”

“Definitely not; not without talk, at least.  We always go out in groups when we go.”  

“Damn.”  Sinbad rubs at her chin thoughtfully.  “I’ll make you dinner!  We can go to the beach or something.”  

“No.”  

“No?”  Sinbad had thought it was quite a good idea, plus there might be Ja’far and bikinis.

“I am not eating your atrocious cooking.  I’ll bring the food.”  

“But I’m the one who asked you!”  Sinbad is pretty sure making your date cook for you is bad form.  

Ja’far is more than a little entertained that after breaking every rule of dating etiquette since age sixteen,  _ now  _ Sinbad wants to do things by the book.  “I like cooking, Sin.  It’ll be fun.  I haven’t had a chance in a while.  Just… bring wine or something.” 

Sinbad pouts and looks a little wistful.  “This is never going to be normal, is it?”  

“No,” Ja’far laughs.  “Even without professional repercussions, I don’t think we’d be capable of a ‘normal’ relationship.”  

Sinbad turns a bit self-conscious.  “Yeah, I know I’m not the easiest personality to live with.”  

“Don’t lose your bravado like that for me, it looks unnatural on you.”  Ja’far chides her.  “I’m not exactly a domestic goddess, either.  If we’ve survived each other’s company this long, I imagine we’re in the clear.”  

Sinbad straightens.  “I’m sorry.  This is just one of the few things I’m not good at.  And you’re right, we’ll be fine.”  

Ja’far pats her cheek.  “You’re good at a great many things, but definitely not at feelings.  Don’t worry about it with me.”  

“Funny, how everyone thinks I’m above such things, when really I just don’t know how.”

Ja’far smiles.  “Life hasn’t exactly given us time for normal emotional development.”  

“It’s too late for me now, I’m already stunted.”  Sinbad puts a hand to her forehead and feigns distress.  “I’ll come meet you at seven?”  

“Sure.”

“And leave all your stupid hats and scarves!  It’ll be dark by the time we get there.” 

Ja’far just grumbles about how Sinbad has never known the true pain of a second degree sunburn, and returns to her work.   

* * *

 

The cooks look at Ja’far a bit oddly as she grabs ingredients and then tucks herself into a corner out of the way to work, but enough of them remember her spending much more time in the kitchen in the earlier days of Sinbad’s rule, and let her be.  A few newer ones ask what she is doing, and Ja’far just makes the excuse that she’s missed a couple dishes from her childhood, and wanted to make them, which isn’t completely untrue.  

Once completed, Ja’far eyes her finished products with a bit of skepticism.  It’s not exactly the most cohesive meal, but she and Sinbad have never been anything resembling picky eaters, and she is quite pleased with each individual dish.  She packs it up into various bags and boxes, and totes it out of the kitchen and back to her quarters.  She’s not quite sure where Sinbad is taking her, but their island isn’t very big and it should all keep for long enough.  

It’s just past six in the evening when Ja’far returns to her room.  She putters mindlessly about for a few minutes, getting distracted by letters on her desk, and then remembers her original purpose.  Ja’far tugs a backpack out from beneath her bed, puts towels on the bottom, boxes of food above that, and a picnic blanket on top, so they will be accessible in the order she needs them.  The part of her brain forever stuck in her younger days of traveling and surviving also wants to tuck emergency rations and supplies into the space remaining, but she resists.  A few flasks of water are strapped onto the sides and she deems it complete.  

Ja’far tugs off her work clothes and goes to get into something more comfortable.  She decides to put a swimsuit on first; it’s really not much different than underwear, and will save her the sandy struggle of changing on the beach.  Ja’far wants to just tug on her most practical, single-piece garment, maybe a shirt over it to hide her skinny body, but knows that’s most likely not what Sinbad is after, and though this whole idea is new to Ja’far, she does find herself wanting to please Sinbad.  So instead, she pulls on the only two-pieced article she owns, and then puts a baggy t-shirt and billowy pants on after it.  Sindria is still warm this time of year, but she puts a jacket on top of her backpack, just in case.  Good enough.

Just as Ja’far is going back to scanning the letters on her desk, Sinbad knocks on her door.  Ja’far opens the door and Sinbad grins when she sees her, all but bouncing on her toes into her room.  She proudly holds out two bottles.  “Red wine for me, black spiced rum for you.”  

“Oh good.  I was worried you were going to make me choke down a romantic glass of wine with you.”  Ja’far takes both bottles and sticks them in her pack.  Sinbad isn’t a very good hiker and the extra weight will only make her worse.  

“You’ll drink hard liquor out of a bottle, but not good wine.  No class,” Sinbad teases.

“Definitely not,” Ja’far agrees.  

“And you agree just like that.  No fun to tease, either.”  

“ _ That _ is a learned skill,” Ja’far mutters.  “If I made it ‘fun,’ you’d never stop doing it.”  She then hoists her pack up onto her shoulders.  “Are you ready to go?”  

“Yep, let’s go out the back and try not to get seen.”  Sinbad opens the door to Ja’far’s bedroom and waves her through it.  “I can carry some of that; it looks heavy.”  

“It’s fine.  You’re bad at carrying things, anyway.”  

“No, I’m not!  I’m stronger than you,” Sinbad protests.

“Maybe short term, but long term you really are bad at it.  You’ll run forever on a flat beach, but god forbid you encounter a hill,” Ja’far says.  

“Fine,”  Sinbad relents.  “We are going to have to hike a little bit, since where we’re going isn’t really publicly accessible.”  Sinbad leads Ja’far out of a maintenance corridor of the palace, and into the lightly wooded hills behind it.  

Ja’far eyes the sheer walls of the crater that surrounds Sindria with skepticism.  “This is going to be an awfully long hike if we have to zig-zag up that until we reach water.”  

“I’ve navigated half the world, Ja’far, give me some credit.  I certainly know how to avoid a mountain.”  

Tropical foliage thwacks against the pack on Ja’far’s back as they walk.  “If you say so, but as far as I know there’s really only one entrance and exit to this island.”  

“That’s because you’re always hiding in your office instead of exploring,” Sinbad says.  

“Maybe I’d spend less time in my office if someone else was doing her share of work instead of ‘exploring,’” Ja’far retaliates.

“I get it all done eventually!  I just can’t sit still for eight hours like you can.”  

“Yes, you have been getting it done on time lately, so I suppose I should laud the improvement,”  Ja’far says dryly.  “If only I’d known I just had to do something more than scold you.”  

Sinbad winks.  “Scold and punish me any time, babe.”  

Ja’far narrows her eyes in reply.  “‘Babe’ me in public and it’ll be a punishment you will not enjoy.”  

“But I can in private?”  

“We’ll see.”  

“Ja’babe,” Sinbad comments with a giggle.

“Definitely not,” Ja’far cuts that off before it can start.  “Or I’ll start calling you Sindaddy.”

Sinbad makes a fake gagging noise and they walk until they’re right next to the looming, natural walls surrounding Sindria.  Finally Sinbad stops, pushes aside some overgrown bushes, and reveals a small tunnel.  “See?  Told you there was a way though.  They’re old lava spouts, I think.”  

“It goes all the way to the other side?”  Ja’far asks.  It seems like a bit of a security risk from where she’s standing, but she supposes there isn’t a way to close up every hole, and it might be good to have a back door, anyway.  

“Yep.  Less than a quarter of a mile from the water.”  Sinbad grabs a stone out of her pocket and focuses on it hard until eventually it lights up.  “Aha!  I’ll have to tell Yamuraiha it works with magoi manipulation.”  

Ja’far grabs it out of Sinbad’s hand to examine it, and it immediately goes dark.  

“Ja’far!  You ruined it.”  Sinbad grabs the stone once more.  “Now I have to focus all over again.”  

“Sorry.  Yamu was showing me these the other day, and she was throwing them around without touching them.”  

“Well, we aren’t all special, magical snowflakes,” Sinbad grumps.  Her stone starts glowing again and she walks into the tunnel.  “Come on, it’s not actually that far through here.”  

Ja’far follows her into the darkness, their footsteps echoing loudly in the small space.  Sinbad decides to take advantage of the acoustics and makes an exaggerated farting noise with her mouth, shouting “excuse you, Ja’far!” 

“Are you serious, Sin?”  Ja’far deadpans.

“Ja’fart.”  She just falls into a fit of giggles as a reply, and Ja’far sighs.  Sometimes she really thinks Sinbad should have been born a man; it would have made it much easier for everyone else to accept her personality.  

They emerge into quickly dimming light on the other side of the passage, and Sinbad pockets her stone again.  Even with the sun already behind the horizon, there are enough stars emerging to provide light to see by.  

Sinbad toddles over the rocky coastline for a few hundred yards, scrambling up and down rough stone, before finally dropping down to a small, sandy patch nestled between dark outcroppings of sea-worn stone.  She looks up at Ja’far still on the rocks above her and holds out her hands proudly.  “It’s hard to find sand outside the harbor, but here we are!”  

Ja’far hops down to join her, and sets her backpack down on the ground.  She drops bottles heavily into the sand, and digs out the blanket she brought.  Sinbad immediately flops down onto it, pushed up on her elbows and staring out at the water.  

“Not that I’d go back, but I do miss the days we could just lie on the deck of our ship and stare at nothing,” Sinbad says wistfully.

“Me too,” Ja’far agrees.  “It wasn’t any easier, really, but it was simpler.”  

“And I was so much skinnier as a teenager!”  Sinbad has a note of complaint in her voice.

“You’re still pretty fit, Sin.  No one stays that thin forever.  Stop worrying about your appearance so much when you know damn well everyone thinks you’re beautiful.”  

“ _ You  _ stayed skinny!”  She points accusingly at Ja’far.  “But as soon as I turned seventeen it was just like….”  She grabs her hips and her breasts, making a small exploding noise, gesturing outwards to demonstrate.  

Ja’far laughs at her explanation.  “I think that happens to a lot of women, Sin.”  

“Yeah, but most women don’t want to run around and swing swords like I do, so it doesn’t get in their way.”  

“That does seem inconvenient,” Ja’far sympathizes, considering herself in the same situation.  She sits herself down on Sinbad’s splayed thighs and grabs her hips, squeezing slightly.  “I mean, I like them, though.  Plus, wider hips give you better balance?”  she tries to offer.

“And breasts do nothing useful at all,” Sinbad huffs.  “Whatever, at least you’re happy.”    

Ja’far squeezes again.  “Very,” she confirms, and then lifts herself off of Sinbad to reach into her backpack. 

The first thing she had decided to make was not something either of Sinbad or herself had encountered until an immigrant family had brought it to Sindria when they started a restaurant; Ja’far had begged the recipe off of them because Sinbad had loved it so much.  She still sent an attendant running to get it halfway across the city at least twice a week for her lunch.   

As soon as Sinbad sees the glass cup, she fist pumps.  “Yesss.  Gimme.”  

Ja’far passes her a cup and a spoon, along with some gingery flatbread.  

“You don’t even like ceviche, Ja’far,”  Sinbad says around a mouthful of food.

“Don’t speak while you eat,”  Ja’far admonishes.  “And I don’t like  _ cilantro _ , it tastes like old soap.  The rest of it is good, so I made myself some without cilantro.”  She pulls out her own cup that is much less green than Sinbad’s, and starts eating in small bites.  

“It tastes nothing like soap.” 

“It does!  It’s about the only thing Sharrkan and I regularly agree on.  It tastes like rancid soap.”  

“Whatever,”  Sinbad mutters, and continues eating quickly.  Somehow, Ja’far is already finished before Sinbad is even halfway done.  “You still eat so fast!  Maybe you really are tiny because you never chew your food; Vittel was right all along.”  

Ja’far throws a small piece of raw fish and it splats onto Sinbad’s face, slowly sliding down her cheek.  “It’s not my fault I’m small!”  

Sinbad laughs and puts her hands up in a placating gesture, waving her spoon around.  “I know, I know.  I was only teasing.”  

Ja’far huffs in reply and starts shuffling through her bag again.  She plops a bowl onto the blanket between herself and Sinbad, and pulls the covering off to serve herself some.  

“Polo!”  Sinbad shrieks, prompting Ja’far to nearly drop her spoon.  

“Yes, fava beans are good this time of the year.  There’s also dill, barberries, and lamb in it; and far too much saffron, of course.”  Ja’far spoons some into her empty cup, which is probably not the most tasteful flavor combination, but she doesn’t really care if it means another dish won’t have to be washed. 

“You made this all for me,” Sinbad notes.  “You could have just made sandwiches or something.”  

“Well, you complain about missing basic Parthevian dishes, sometimes.  And they serve such complicated meals in the palace; I get tired of it too.”  She sticks a spoonful of rice in her mouth.  “And it’s not all for you; dessert is for me.”  

Sinbad starts eating the polo straight from the bowl, and moans happily.  “You did this perfectly, Ja’far.”  

“Saher’s recipe,”  Ja’far replies.  “Though Drakon was the one who suggested adding the berries.”  

“I need to have dinner with them more often,”  Sinbad muses.  “I swear I sometimes forget they’re from the same place as me, even if they had a bit more luxurious an upbringing.  Everyone here is all about spicy food, but no one else wants sour stuff!”  She purposefully picks out a sour berry and cracks it between her teeth.  

“That explains why you were so excited about the lime-y fish,”  Ja’far realizes.  

“Yeah!  Fish and sour and spicy all at once!  It’s the perfect food,”  Sinbad raptures.  

“I’ve definitely got to give that family a tax break or something, they keep trying to give you food for free when you send your errand boys for lunch.”  

“Really?  They shouldn’t do that, I’m just another customer, and I can certainly afford to pay.”  Sinbad sounds a bit upset.  

“Apparently you’re a great boost to their reputation and business, but I agree.  You should go tell them yourself.  Their little girl idolizes you, you know.  Runs around the shop with a toy sword and everything.”  Ja’far smiles briefly to herself. 

“I’ll go get my own lunch then, next time.  Honestly any excuse to get out of my office is a good one.”   

“You’ve always been better with people than papers.”  

“And you better be glad of it, or I wouldn’t need to keep you around.”  Sinbad bumps playfully into Ja’far’s shoulder.  

“Between the two of us, we almost make an entire useful person,” Ja’far responds.  

“Not the feelings part, though.”

“No, definitely not.”  

They eat in comfortable silence for a while, the occasional clinking of silverware on glass the only thing interrupting the soft rumbling of waves.  

Ja’far finishes her own food quickly, and then waits for Sinbad to finish hers.  Only when they’re both done does she pull her last dish out of her pack, placing the box containing it into the empty polo bowl.  

As far as Sinbad can tell, it’s a box of folded leaves with a few pieces of fruit.  

Sinbad picks up a leaf-wrapped bundle.  “A leaf pyramid,” she declares.  “Do I eat it?”

“Not unless you are fond of eating banana leaves.  Unwrap it.”  

Sinbad does so, and still doesn’t know what she has in her hands.  It’s sticky, mostly clear, and has something orange in the middle of it.  “...An egg?”  

Ja’far laughs at her.  “No, not an egg, you loon.  Just eat it.”  

She bites into it and finds it tougher than expected, and strangely chewy.  It’s slightly sweet and the middle is spicier.  “Good,” she decides, “But weird.  What is it?”  Sinbad reaches to unwrap another one.  

“Tapioca dumplings.  Different stuff in the middle than what I remember, but it’s as close as I could get.”  

“Why’s this one black?”  Sinbad prods at it and bites a corner off.  

“Because we ran out of normal tapioca, so I used the black kind.  Eat it with a piece of watermelon, it’s good that way.”  Ja’far pokes a piece of fruit in the box towards her.  

Sinbad does so, and approves.  She watches Ja’far reach for a rolled up leaf and unwrap it.  Ja’far stretches the dumpling between her fingers and smiles.  “Where did you learn to make these?  I’ve never seen food like this.”  

“I didn’t really learn anywhere, but they were my favorite when I was a kid, not that you’d have caught me dead admitting it.”  She smiles a bit sadly.  “Mahad and Vittel used to make them when we were out and wouldn’t get caught.  I would have told them off, but I liked the dumplings, so I let them.  I learned by watching, and I don’t know where they learned.  Not sure they even remembered.”  

“Murderous child with a sweet tooth,”  Sinbad muses.

Ja’far runs a hand over her face.  “Don’t remind me, I was such a dramatic and horrid little thing.  I just wish I’d told them, back then.”  

“All children are dramatic and horrid occasionally,”  Sinbad laughs.  “Told who what?”

“Told them the dumplings were my favorite,”  Ja’far replies.

“I’m sure they knew, if your horrid little self let them be made,”  Sinbad reassures her.

“You’re probably right.”  Ja’far stops tugging at the thing in her hands and bites half of it off.  “Not quite the same, but close.”  

“Well I like them,”  Sinbad decides.  “And your little leaves.”  

“I can make boxes too; they’re pretty.”  

“Show me next time, then.”  Sinbad bounces to her feet.  “Now swimming!”  

Ja’far swears Sinbad must have been born with her feet already in the water, with the childish joy she still takes in swimming.  She’s quite good at it, too, though Ja’far imagines that is more a result of growing up on the ocean than any preference for it.  Ja’far herself hadn’t actually known how to swim when Sinbad found her, though she’d learned quickly, living on boats.  She wasn’t exactly an effective fighter when a push off the edge could kill her, after all. 

Sinbad already has her shirt and pants off, and is scampering towards the water.  She’s in a pale blue suit that is surprisingly modest, considering some of the things Ja’far has seen her wear.  The slit sides on the bottoms are still flashing the skin of her hip, but actually looked fairly secure.  Her top was quite a contraption, two straps going over her shoulders to criss-cross in a myriad of ways before wrapping around and around under her bust and finally tying together, presumably to give some support.  She’s gone through the effort of making sure she can actually swim in her outfit, rather than just lie around and look nice as she occasionally does on public beaches, and for some reason that makes Ja’far smile.   

She’s up to her knees in the water before Sinbad realizes Ja’far isn’t with her.  She turns around to call Ja’far over and sees her in the middle of pulling a shirt over her head, her pants already neatly folded on the blanket.  

There are, of course, no frills with Ja’far.  She is in a fairly simple, black, sporty suit, straps woven together and crossed in an x across her back, but otherwise unadorned.  Her bottoms fit neatly to her hips in one smooth line, since she doesn’t have the flesh to dig into as Sinbad does.  Her arms stay wrapped in wire, and darts usually hidden in her sleeves are instead strapped to her thigh.  Sinbad barely notices any of that, however, too fascinated with how Ja’far’s paper-white skin fluoresces under the moonlight.  Lithe muscle is visible in blue shadows as Ja’far walks over to her, and Sinbad does her best to shake herself out of her momentary trance.  

Ja’far’s feet hit the water and she is pleasantly surprised.  “It’s warm.”  

“The air starts cooling at night, this time of year, but the currents won’t be colder for another two months, yet,”  Sinbad explains.  Then she points to Ja’far’s knives.  “Aren’t those going to be heavy to swim with?”  

“Not really.  And I’m not going off into the dark without them.”  

Sinbad puts her hands on her hips.  “We’re plenty safe out here, Ja’far.” 

“Famous last words,” Ja’far mutters.  The only way someone is getting her knives off of her is by prying them from her cold, dead hands.  

“Fine.”  Sinbad sees the determined look on her face and drops her hands in defeat.  “Come on, let’s go.”  

Ja’far is less hesitant to get in the water, now that she knows it won’t chill her for hours afterwards, and is quick to join Sinbad a bit farther out.  The swells are calm in the leeward waters around Sindria, and they don’t crash any higher than her waist.  She decides to do her part in this arrangement and grabs Sinbad’s hand, pulling her farther out.  “Didn’t you want to swim?”  

“Yes!  Out to that thing, ok?”  Sinbad points to an outcropping of rocks maybe one hundred fifty yards away.  Ja’far nods, and Sinbad takes a series of ungraceful, wooshing steps into deeper water, and once it has reached the tops of her thighs she dives in.  

Sinbad looks back to make sure Ja’far is following her, and then strokes out from the beach.  Part of the way she stops, waiting for Ja’far to catch up, her pale head bobbing along the surface.  The bottom is only thirty feet down, and Sinbad can see fairly well under the nearly-full moon.  She dives down to the bottom, carefully decompressing her ears, and searches for what she saw from above.  She grabs it, and kicks quickly to the surface.  

Just as Sinbad surfaces, Ja’far catches up.  “Look, Ja’far.  It’s you in the morning.”  

She is presented with a fairly large crab, flailing in agitation and pinched between Sinbad’s fingers.  She can’t help but laugh; Sinbad looks very proud of her joke.  “If it were even grumpier and naked from molting, it’d look a lot more like you.  Put the poor thing back, it’s going to pinch you eventually.”  

Sinbad releases the crab, and it floats down through the water much like a leaf through the air.  They both watch it, and then continue the brief remaining distance to the pile of rocks, though it’s become clear there is a small amount of vegetation growing on it, with their proximity.  Sinbad crawls up onto a dark rock and motions for Ja’far to join her.

“I can get in from underwater, but you might not want to try that.  We can climb over the top.”  

“Thanks,” Ja’far says as she climbs up to join her.  She’s never had the penchant for holding her breath that Sinbad does.  

They crawl up over the side and it isn’t twenty seconds before they are presented with a large hole in the ground.  Much to Ja’far’s surprise, Sinbad simply keeps striding forward, and suddenly disappears down it.  She hears a splash, and Ja’far peers over the edge to see what is down there.  Not much is visible, but she hears Sinbad’s voice echoing and telling her to jump down.  Never one to be afraid of heights, Ja’far follows, and after a quick drop lands back into warm water.  She kicks to the surface and puffs excess salt water from her lips, searching for Sinbad in the comparative dark.  

She finds her, eventually, and swims over to join her in the strange sort of watery cavern she finds herself in.  Ja’far would worry about tides in an enclosed space, but it’s clear Sinbad isn’t doing so, and she’s far more in tune with that sort of thing than Ja’far is.  

“Tide’s going out,”  Sinbad confirms, as if hearing her thoughts.  

Ja’far finally reaches her and finds Sinbad sitting on a stone shelf barely three inches below the surface of the water.  She joins her on the natural bench, and quickly finds lips pressed against hers.  Ja’far can’t see much, but she can taste the salt on Sinbad’s lips, and hear her breathing echoing in the cavern amidst the lapping of water.  She pulls back long enough to maneuver herself onto Sinbad’s lap, and then kisses her in return.  

It’s messy in the dark, with clicking teeth and misplaced swipes of tongues, but it’s fun anyway, and filled with a sort of directionless desire just to be closer.  

“Alright, fess up,” Ja’far finally breaks it off with a laugh.  “How many times have you pulled this stunt before?”  

Sinbad is a bit offended.  “Taken people here?  None!”  

“This seems far too planned out for ‘none,’”  Ja’far observes. 

“Fine,”  Sinbad grabs Ja’far about the waist.  “I’ve thought about this, us, for a long time.  And I started just seeing everything that way, where I could take you, what I could show you.  So I found this and naturally that’s where my mind went.  But I’ve never taken anyone else.”   

Ja’far puts her hands against Sinbad’s face and feels her flushing.  “You really have thought about this.”  

“Yeah,”  Sinbad admits quietly.  “I tried not to, since I knew it wouldn’t actually happen, but I couldn’t help it.”  

Ja’far strokes her thumbs along Sinbad’s jaw, and then down her neck to knead softly at her shoulders.  “And you were never going to do anything about it?”  She asks.  “That’s unlike you, to not try and obtain what you want.”   

Sinbad relaxes into Ja’far’s hands on her tight shoulders, and wraps her hands around Ja’far’s narrow waist to rub her thumbs on either side of her spine.  It’s easier to admit these things in the dark.  “I hoped I’d have the courage one day, but I’m me, and you’re you, and it was never easy to just start it.  And then there were so many bigger problems and uggghhhhh,”  Sinbad trails off in a groan.  “I did have it planned out, how I’d  _ try  _ to get you to notice without making it weird, and tell you, but then you had to go and blow all my plans right out of the water!”   

Ja’far laughs through her nose and wraps her hands around Sinbad’s back, propping her chin on one strong shoulder and pushing her face into long hair that is starting to dry a bit crackly with the seawater. 

“Oh well, at least I have you now,”  Sinbad continues.  “And for as long as you’ll let me, if that’s ok.  I planned a lot of dates in my head, so hopefully this one goes well enough that you’ll let me take you on another one.”  

Sinbad tucks Ja’far’s shoulder under her chin and tugs her close against her, content to just to sit there, think about nothing, and listen to the water and soft breaths.  Her meditation is interrupted when she hears a soft sniffle by her ear.  

“Ja’far?”  

No response.  

“Ja’far, are you crying?”  

“No!  ….Yes, a little,” is the slightly wavering reply.  

Sinbad immediately lets go of Ja’far, trying to lean back and see her face, but Ja’far resists the pull, keeping her arms locked tight and her chin over Sinbad’s shoulder.  “What happened?  Are you alright?  Oh, I knew I was going to get this all wrong and now you’re--”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Sin.”  Ja’far gives a watery chuckle.  “Stop wiggling and just hold me.”  

Sinbad complies, curling her arms gently back around Ja’far.  “But you’re  _ crying _ ,” she protests.

Ja’far lets out a shuddering sigh and tries to control her voice.  “Sorry; you know I’ve always been a bit teary about things like this.”

“You do always cry at weddings,”  Sinbad mutters.  “It’s kind of weird for someone I’ve never seen go on two dates with the same person.”  

Ja’far flicks Sinbad’s ear in response.  “At least I went on dates at all.”  She settles her hand back onto Sinbad’s shoulder blade.  “I just never thought I could have something like this.  I was always distracted doing other things, and I guess some part of me thought I wasn’t allowed, after what I’ve done.  I never let myself consider a relationship, because I’d never be able to explain what I’ve had to do in my life to anyone.   But I don’t have to explain anything to you.  I hadn’t really thought about what that meant, until now.”

Sinbad tucks her arms under Ja’far’s and reaches up to stroke over matted hair and rub at her back in mindless circles.  “There are a lot of things I never knew you wanted.”  

“To be fair, I didn’t know I wanted this sort of thing either.”  

“Well we both should have guessed it, then.  You’re not so hyperactive and flighty like me, it would make sense that you would eventually want something more settled.”  Then Sinbad chuckles.  “In which case you’ve made a poor choice; I’m not a terribly stable person.”  

Ja’far finally relinquishes her tight hold to lean back and try to look at Sinbad through the darkness.  “Not in some things, and we do move around a lot, but you’ve been there since I was ten years old.  You’re one of the only constants I’ve had in my life, actually.  You’re stable where it counts.”  

“I haven’t actually slept with someone else in months,” Sinbad confesses.  “So I think I could be stable in more ways, if you want.”  

“I already know that, Sin.  And sex is complicated in our professional situations already, so I’m not…”  Ja’far fumbles.  “I appreciate it, but relationships are very strange in your particular position, so don’t worry overmuch about that part of it.”  

“It’s not like I couldn’t have,”  Sinbad defends.  “Maybe I even should have slept with them, at least the important ones.  I just didn’t  _ want  _ to sleep with anyone else.”  

“Cute,” Ja’far states.

“It’s not ‘cute,’ it’s…”

“It’s cute.”  

“Fine, whatever.  Leave me and my sappy self to die in humiliation,” Sinbad bemoans.  “Oh, to return to my careless youth.”  

Ja’far starts laughing and finds she can’t stop.  “For a fairly practical person when the need arises, you’re so dramatic sometimes.”  

“Only when I know I’m allowed to be.”  Sinbad lifts her chin to press a quick kiss to Ja’far’s lips.  “Let’s get back before I get all pruney.  Tide’s probably low enough that you can see the exit.”  

Ja’far whines at having to give up her comfy seat and go back into the water, but ultimately Sinbad pushes her back in, and she has no choice but to swim again.  Sinbad guides them around a few twists and turns, and then a bare sliver of moonlight is visible above the surface of the water.  Ja’far still has to hold her breath and swim underwater to get through the tunnel, but it doesn’t cause the usual anxiety, as she knows how far it is.  

Once on the other side, Sinbad starts stroking back to shore, until Ja’far grabs her ankle.  Sinbad looks back at her, trying to kick her ankle free.  

“I’m tired; carry me,” Ja’far complains.  

Sinbad regards her with amusement, as Ja’far rarely admits weakness to anyone.  “It’s not that far, carry yourself.”  

“I’ll just fall behind, and then you’ll have to wait.”  

“If I can’t hike, then you can’t swim,” Sinbad points out, and Ja’far frowns at her.  “Come on, just keep your head above water and kick.  I’ll do it too, so I won’t go fast.”  

Ja’far grumbles, but acquiesces, and it isn’t long before she can touch her feet down on the sandy bottom and walk the rest of the way to shore.  Her body cools quickly once she is out of the water and in the open air, so Ja’far shuffles towards her backpack to dig for a towel.

“I wasn’t going to comment originally, but that’s a rather big backpack for one evening,”  Sinbad observes.  “At least it’s not twice the size of your body, I guess,” she adds after, remembering Ja’far’s travel habits in her childhood.  

“Some of us like to go traipsing off into the woods without even a water bottle, and some of us like to plan properly so we have water for ourselves, and then we have extra water when we find the fool who forgot theirs.”  Ja’far emerges with her towel and wraps it snuggly around herself.  She looks up to find Sinbad is sitting on the stone, looking slightly shamefaced. 

“You forgot a towel,”  Ja’far states blandly.  

Sinbad just purses her lips in reply.  

Ja’far digs back into her backpack and pulls out a second towel that she shoves towards Sinbad, who immediately tucks it over her head and shoulders so only her face is peeking out, but most of her lower torso and legs are left bared.  “I won’t make fun of your bags anymore, Ja’far.”  

“You look like a sad nun on top and a dancer on the bottom,”  Ja’far notes.  

Sinbad wraps the towel more normally around her torso.  “Happy now?”  

“I never said I was unhappy about the sad nun in bikini bottoms.”  

“What a terrible thing to say; I’d die being a nun, even if I got to wear bikini bottoms.”  

Ja’far snorts.  “You wouldn’t even last a day as a nun.”

“Probably not even an hour,” Sinbad confirms.  

Toweling her head off, Ja’far sits back down on the blanket, reaching for the bottles she had previously thrown in the sand.  Sinbad crawls off her rock and hurries to sit down next to Ja’far, grabbing for her bottle of wine.  

“I like this arrangement, because you let me drink without complaint when you can supervise me.”  

“You need supervision because it’s a problem, Sin.”  

“Hey, I keep it to night-time hours!” Sinbad protests.  “You might be able to somehow manage your stress through organization and overwork, but not all of us can.”  

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t a problem, with how much you need it.  Not to mention how you occasionally lose yourself in public, all your drunken affairs…” Ja’far trails off, not wanting to continue.  

“...I know,” Sinbad admits after a beat.  “But I’ve been better recently, haven’t I?  I just can’t keep it all in like you do, and sometimes my head won’t shut up, so it helps.  Obviously it’s a bit indecent, but I’ve learned to just go with it.”  

Ja’far wraps her ankle around Sinbad’s.  “You’ve never even said you knew it was a problem, before.”  

“That’s because I know it is, but I don’t have a better strategy,” Sinbad replies.  “And at this point everyone sort of accepts it, or at least tolerates it.”  

“It’s alright, I guess we all have our issues, even if I have to constantly fret over your behavior.”  Ja’far pokes at her ribs, and Sinbad twitches.  “And you have been better recently.  I think this might be good for us; I actually took a night off work, ate properly, and might go to bed on time.”  

“If I have to admit I’m an alcoholic, you have to admit you’re a workaholic,” Sinbad says.  

Ja’far pinches her lips.  “Fine.  I constantly deprive myself of basic bodily needs because I consider it necessary to prove my worth through labor, first.”  

Sinbad does not so much kiss her cheek as press her face into it.  “And tonight, I’m not drunk and you’re not deprived of food or sleep.”  

Ja’far tips down until she is lying flat on the blanket, and Sinbad joins her.  “No, we aren’t.  And there are pretty stars and no one demanding anything from either of us.”  

The last of the water dries from their skin as they lie on the blanket in silence, shoulder to shoulder, occasionally sipping from separate bottles.  

All of a sudden, Sinbad jumps as Ja’far rubs a thumb gently over her eyelid. 

“You’re not wearing any make up tonight.”  

“Well I figured it would all just smear in the water.”  Sinbad is a bit self-conscious that Ja’far even noticed.  

“You never go out without makeup on,” Ja’far notes. 

“Is it bad?”  

“No, I like you without it.  Though I like you with it on, too.  It just makes me happy you didn’t try to put it on for me.”  

“Oh.  Well, I thought about it.  But you’ve certainly seen me in far sorrier states, it’s not like I was trying to impress anyone.  Plus now I can rub my eyes as much as I please.”  And Sinbad does so enthusiastically while Ja’far giggles.  

Ja’far rolls over and half on top of her, biting at her chin, then kissing her lips.  “You’re pretty and you know it, but are still so worried about your appearance anyway.  Don’t ever think about that with me, because I care about much more than that.”  

Sinbad kisses her back briefly.  “And you don’t give a damn what you look like.”  She snaps the strap of Ja’far’s swimsuit.  “But still wore this for me.  I don’t really care either, but thanks.”  Sinbad tickles her hands up Ja’far’s bare sides.  

Ja’far wriggles uncomfortably and grabs Sinbad’s hands, planting them on either side of her head.  She pushes her mouth against Sinbad’s and can’t remember ever being so delighted by a mixture of food condiments, ocean, and fermented fruit.  

Sinbad hums happily and wraps her hands around Ja’far’s back, salt sticking their skin together.  She lifts her head from the blanket to return the kiss for a while, and then eventually separates and lays it back down.  

“We should probably pack up and go,” Sinbad suggests.  

Ja’far starts to get up, then flops back down, her face between Sinbad’s breasts.  “But I’m so nice and warm here.”  

Sinbad sits up anyway and catches Ja’far before she tips off.  “Maybe now, but you won’t be for long.  You don’t get to drink without measuring, next time.  We might get in trouble if you start just wanting to lie around half-naked.  That’s my job.”  

“Yeah, yeah,” Ja’far grouches, but rises up to her feet.  

Sinbad quite obviously pans up and down her form, admiring the view. 

“You didn’t want to ravish me on the beach?”  Ja’far teases.

Sinbad makes a mildly horrified face.  “No, definitely not.  Sand everywhere.  Zero out of ten stars; do not recommend.”  

Ja’far laughs as she starts to gather their things.  “That sounds like a story I need to hear sometime.”  

Sinbad giggles nervously.  “Ah, it’s ok.  Don’t think it’s good form to… I mean now that we’re….”  She waves her hand between them.  

“Sin, I’m under no illusions about your sex life.”  Ja’far smiles.  “And I’m not the jealous type, anyway.  I still want you to tell me everything because you’re my best friend and I want to support you, if nothing else.  Plus, you’ve had some pretty hilarious mishaps that I’d hate to miss being told about.”  

“There is most definitely such a thing as too adventurous,” Sinbad grimaces.  “And thanks, Ja’far.  I mean, I know that, but it’s good to hear, even if you do laugh too much at my misfortune.”  

Ja’far finishes packing her bag, and starts scrambling back over the rocks enclosing them.  Once on top, Sinbad grabs her hand.  They walk in silence for a while, hands swinging between them, humid air finally starting to cool, and the sounds of various frogs and insects ringing in the air.  

“I’m glad I’ve always had you, Ja’far.”  

“Likewise.  I’d most likely be dead in a ditch without you.”   

Sinbad takes a nervous misstep.  “I don’t mean just for what you can do.  You’re right, about what you said earlier.  I don’t worry with you, you know?  You know where I come from, every problem I’ve ever caused, every failure I’m culpable for, but you’re still here.  I think that’s why I want this, when I’ve never felt safe with anyone else.”  

Ja’far bumps her hip with Sinbad’s.  “Don’t sound so apologetic about it.  You’ve turned out a sight better than most kids who had to care for their parents years before puberty.  You founded a damn country before you’d even reached proper adulthood; and that’s somehow superseded by your failures?  You’re human, Sin.  It’s what makes you a good ruler, and it’s something I like about you.”  

Sinbad stops and tugs Ja’far to a stop with her.  “Can I kiss you?”  

“Knock yourself out,” Ja’far chuckles.  “And for future reference, you don’t have to ask, if we’re having a moment in private.”  

Sinbad grins and brings their lips together, and it is nothing like their previous kisses.  There is only affection and gratitude, barely a trace of the want that had spurred them before.  Ja’far’s lips are slightly chapped and stinging at the edges, where Sinbad’s are pliable and slightly tacky with the remnants of lipstick from earlier in the day.  Neither of them even open their teeth far enough for any sort of tongue contact, content simply to meet and then and separate, softly tugging each other’s lips between their own.  Eventually, they come apart, then come together again for a scarce dozen seconds, breathing slightly escalated.  Ja’far feels a strange sensation welling in her, and tears wanting to tug at her eyes again.  

“No one’s ever kissed me like that.”  Sinbad is also a bit overcome, some sort of visceral attraction that has nothing to do with sex consuming her, body and soul.  

“Me neither,” Ja’far tries not to sniffle.  She twists their hands until their wrists are nearly intertwined, wanting to wrap around Sinbad and never let go.  “Let’s get back, before we make it even easier to miss us.”  

Sinbad pushes one last, quick kiss to her lips, and then turns to start walking again.  

Ja’far squeezes her hand, sweating slightly and gripping a bit too tight, and doesn’t let go until they’re under the first public streetlight, and all the eyes to see them.

* * *

 

The ocean water necessitates bathing, but they stick to Sinbad’s rooms.  She has a large enough bath for the two of them, and they both want to continue their rather isolated moments out of the public eye, even if that only means the vague chance of palace staff in larger baths.  

Sinbad is quick to latch onto Ja’far, wrapping as many limbs around her as she can, and Ja’far lets her.  They don’t wash so much as soak, just breathing and clinging.  There is little lust in the equation, but it’s uniquely intimate anyway, so close together and so much quietude.  

Eventually the water starts cooling and they are forced to get out.  Ja’far dries herself and pulls on an oversized nightshirt, and Sinbad doesn’t put anything on at all.  Ja’far pushes a brush through her long, wet hair, and folds it into a damp plait, rolling it into a ball and tying it at the base of Sinbad’s neck.  

“Now you won’t strangle me, and it will be cute and curly in the morning.”  

Sinbad could melt into a pile of sleepy goo, right then, but instead shuffles herself under blankets, and tucks Ja’far in with her.  

“Do you want… um…” Ja’far is tired, but wriggles closer to Sinbad anyway, trying to get her meaning across.  She’d already resigned herself to Sinbad having a much higher sex drive than herself, and she’s willing to compromise.  

“Sex on the first date, Ja’far?  How scandalous.  And I actually kind of just want to sleep,” Sinbad replies, sounding surprised.  “Unless you want to?”

“No, sleep is definitely at the top of my list of priorities.”  Ja’far relaxes, now that the awkward and inevitable question has been resolved.  She rolls onto her back and lays her head against Sinbad’s chest and shoulder.  “Just try not to kill me overnight.”  

Sinbad wraps an arm around her.  “I’ll try, you blanket stealer.”  

“I do not!”  Ja’far protests.

“You do too.  It’s a good thing I run like a furnace and kick them off half the time, anyway.”  

Ja’far just grumbles and snuggles into Sinbad.  She certainly is warm.  At this rate, she may even stop wearing socks to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wheres that gay seal meme circa like 2009 because that's how i feel about this chapter and myself

**Author's Note:**

> i wasn't planning to post this originally because I kind of just wrote it for myself but then I was like well.......i have it, so why not. why would i not try to abolish fandom fear of girls loving on girls


End file.
